Life – Terror. Ecstasy. Fight. Denial. Flight. Failure. PAIN. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. Hope. Love. Peace – Death.
I love it.
A good meal, bottle of wine, home cooked or restaurant, here or abroad, old tastes, new tastes, I don’t care, I love food.
This was not always the case.
It wasn’t until I met Gail and we began to travel (aged 18) that I realised how good food is and how much I loved it.
I was not excited by food growing up.
I was a terrible fussy eater and Mum was a poor cook. To be fair to her, much of the time she was ill, unavailable to cook or to make sure I ate. I would regularly remove food from my plate in my trouser pockets and dispose of it in the (outside) toilet.
I existed on milk, basic cereals, tinned (HP) beans on toast, instant mash potatoes (on special occasions, Christmas etc.), tinned corned-beef, biscuits – digestive, ginger, NICE, occasionally, Club biscuits. I did not drink tea or coffee, an occasional mug of ‘oxo’, cordials. and milk. Milk, plenty of milk.
I cannot remember eating any fresh (or otherwise) vegetables, only tinned, processed peas. We never had lemonade or crisps, except when mum remembered to bring them from the pub. I would not eat roast Sunday roast, with the family. One of my biggest regrets, I never ate a roast dinner until aged seventeen.
I did like scouse.
Dads scouse with a neck of lamb.
Christmas dinner for me – slices of turkey, tinned processed, marrowfat peas and Cadburys Smash instant potato-mash.
From around aged seven, for supper, I would eat English mustard (and piccalilli) butties or cheese and crackers. When older crumpets and or toast with Bovril (that I bought specifically for myself). I developed a fetish for oxo (beef) stock cubes, I would eat them like sweets. I could buy them from a local sweet-grocery shop individually and I would, regularly. They would be hidden from me as otherwise I would find and eat them, at time so many, making myself ill.
I remember eating some fresh fruit; peaches, strawberry’s, cherries, plums and tinned mandarin oranges & pears and many many tangerines at Christmas. We would eat fish at least once per week, those days fish was not as expensive as meat. I liked fish, yellow fish and some white fish, I loved cockles, fresh or pickled and also ‘salt-fish’ butty’s for Sunday breakfast with dad and Carol.
When older I/we ate a lot of red meat, eggs, always awful chips (mum was shit at chips), very few veg. Dad worked in the food haulage industry, refrigerated transport of meat. We ate a lot of lamb & pork chops, cheap steak and sausages. All our food had tons of added salt.
That is what I knew?
You ate meat with salt on it.
Dad liked salt.
I liked salt?
My diet was a disaster. I was a dietary nightmare, I wonder what impact my diet has on my health now? I do wonder if ‘what I ate’ growing up is why I’m so fucking healthy now?
We are what we eat?
Food. Health. Life.
Thanks for reading