Life for Lola

This morning I was taken with a huge puzzler which I should really leave to a dome headed scientist, nature or nurture etc. The ladyfriend made toast for our breakfast, which anyone can tell you is not the best of fuel for two growing gals at the best of times, but it is Thursday (our early start at work) and it's easy. I digress. Ladyfriend had burnt her slice so dropped it on the plate in revulsion. I offered to swap for a bit I had started but she turned it down.

I asked "Is it because alien chops have been round it?" she said "no" and that she had gone off the idea of breakfast. It got us discussing how food from someone else's plate always tastes different and we wondered why.

If someone who is not your family or your 'special friend' swigs from a bottle and passes it to you to drink from do you quickly wipe it, hold it in the air for a bit (bacteria die after 7 seconds), sip from it but think "yuk" or do you guzzle from it without care?

I tend to sip but think "yuk", I think out of politeness.

When someone - again, out of the family circle, has eaten food and given it to you the same thing happens, yet in a bistro when a scabby chef has done God only knows what to your lasagne you eat it merrily. Or, when someone has secretly swigged from a milk bottle in the staff kitchen your tea doesn't taste different.

It is therefore the knowing that effects the taste of food not the fact that it has happened.

Anyway, tonight we set off to Brighton to see the wonderful Eddi Reader perform to a sell out audience. I am leaving work early to get on the M25 in good time, here's hoping our passage is clear.