9 year-old school pupil, Geoffrey Sharp, today bemoaned the death of originality in his lunchbox, after a frustrating few weeks where he felt embarrassed to eat with friends.
‘Mum used to write a lot of short stories and poetry,’ complained Geoffrey, ‘but a month ago it suddenly stopped. I don’t know why. I noticed a similar decline in her imagination when preparing my lunch. It used to be a treasure chest of novelty and surprise, but it’s become rather formulaic. The pesto focaccia with pastrami has become a sausage roll. Instead of Luscombe Sicilian Lemonade I get a Robinsons Fruit Shoot. But worst of all, the small French cheeseboard with chutney is now just a Mini Babybel.’
He continued, ‘I want Mum to rekindle that creative spark in how she sources and prepares my food. What is this life without the highest ambition? What I ultimately see in my lunchbox is a loss of hope.’
His Mum responded, ‘The ungrateful little arsehole said what? Tell him to ask his father to do it then.’
Geoffrey is now eating school dinners.