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Yesterday I went to London. The train journey was spectacular, all icy snowy fields and streaky sunrise. London, on the other hand, was not spectacular. Grey, slushy, cold and at its most unappealing. But I had a great day, with great food and lovely people (don’t worry, I took photos and everything for another post) except it was a bit like being in a black and white film.  Everything was so dank. It really reminded me of why I don’t live there any more!

And then I came home, on a train full of people having ridiculous conversations on their mobiles. Why do they do this? Do they not realize everyone else can hear them? It’s like performance parenting, except performance mobiling.  How come their phone never goes out of signal, or gets cut off in a tunnel? I’m not kidding you when I say that the conversations covered whether or not to go on strike, the annual sales figures for a well-known company and how it stacked up against competitors, the legality of driving with snow on your car, and if Jo in telesales should be disciplined for whistle-blowing.  Don’t even get me started on the conversation about whether to buy a bag when you’ve only got £x in the bank to last you to the end of the month and you view it as more important than buying petrol to go to work, but it’s ok ‘cos I can always call in sick’.

I could barely concentrate on my Evening Standard.  Perhaps I could make a future career out of transcribing conversations on the train and selling them back to employers as proof of how non-confidential people are with information. Or just write a novel.

Do these people ever shut up, or do they just carry on wittering? God forbid, do they blog?!

By the time I got home I’d calmed down and started to think about supper. Only to have a lightbulb moment which I felt compelled to share with you all. Have you ever bought something because you think it looks cool, but then it ends up transforming your life? I kid you not. This happened to me when I started buying Warburton’s Squarish Wraps last year.

They’re brilliant. Like bread, only better. And no, I wasn’t asked to write this post by them. The sheer geniusness of their invention hit me as I stood in the kitchen last night, cross-eyed with tiredness and hunger, waiting for my left over bolognaise to finish heating through so I could create a monstrous sauce / cheese / crème fraiche toastie to eat with Phil and Kirstie as they househunted in Aberdeen.

You can top them, roll them, wrap them, toast them, use them as a pizza base, create funky sandwiches, make canapés and for all I know, heat them up and use to soothe pulled muscles.

If you’ve not already tried them, please do so.  And if you haven’t, watch out for a train carriage near you. If there’s a woman on there loudly excelling the virtues of Squarish Wraps as you hurtle towards your destination, it’s probably me.

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