I always eat a sandwich in exactly the same, but, bizarre way. And it doesn’t matter what the filling is. Yesterday it just happened to be a delicious BLT Guido had made for me.
The bread was powder white, the iceberg lettuce was shredded, the tomato was a juicy red buffalo and the bacon was grilled to perfection. It goes without saying things went flaky when I started to eat and I’m not referring to the sandwich. I have culinary musts.
1. Must be served on a plate. Preferably oval but any shape will do in a crockery emergency.
2. Must be cut into two horizontal parts. Four triangles? I’m not a three year old.
3. Must peel back the top slices off first and eat those both separately before anything else. Which then obviously necessitates an urgent need for cutlery.
4. Squiggle a line of ketchup precisely. This should be exactly 6 centimetres in length but absolutely MUST NOT touch the bread.
I could probably carry on right beyond number 10 but I’ve limited word count.
“Do you have any idea how weird you are?” Guido asked me staring at my deconstructed lunch.
”Yes,” I said, “and it’s taken me years of careful practice to get to this point.”
”In fact I’d go so far as to say you’re possibly the weirdest person I know,” he said.
Which I have to tell you was pretty rich coming from Guido, who always religiously reads the back of a shampoo bottle whenever he’s in the shower.
”Though I have to say you have some peculiar idiosyncrasies yourself,” I said measuring my squiggle.
Here’s the thing. When Guido gets dressed in the morning he insists on putting his clothes on in a strict order. He never deviates. Boxers first. Socks. Shirt. Then lastly, jeans. If he throws everything on in a rush he can get quite discombobulated and has to strip off and start all over again. Which is a pretty big deal at 5.30 in the morning.
”Prove it,” he said slouching back in his chair.
I crunched a piece of bacon. I drew up a long and extensive mental list. I wondered what to pick first and which to leave out and what would make him sound even more of a freak than I was.
”For starters you read newspapers backwards,” I said.
I lifted the top left hand piece of bread and nibbled the gooey bit first.
“You always set the volume level on the TV to 10, even if this means neither of us can actually hear it. If I turn it up to 12 you turn it back down to 10.”
By the way, I leave the crusts for last.
”You’re afraid of birds. Particularly one randomly landing on your head.”
I lifted the top right hand piece. It was gooey too but not overly. This was good. Infact on a scale of gooeyness it was a 5. Having a scale of gooeyness is not in any way weird.
“I once saw you eat ice cream with a fork,” I said.
Speaking of forks – I needed one.
“And, you have the ability to sneeze with your eyes still wide open.”
There was a brief silence.
“But hey some of my weirdness I know you definitely like.” He cocked an eyebrow.
There was another brief silence. I was happy for him to prove it.