Now, you may be thinking that is just a photograph of some cheddar cheese and sliced tomato on some buttered bread.
No, no, no. That is a thing of great beauty and joy. That is the best lunch I have eaten in months. It is some cheddar cheese and sliced tomato on some (home made) buttered bread with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, and when you live in an essentially cheese free mega-country and the one shop which sells the stuff has been out of stock for literally months, its sudden reappearance is to be celebrated and thanks sung from the mountain tops.
This morning I was in my local store where I buy my bread flour and glanced forlornly at what I expected to be an empty fridge and found it contained one huge lump of cheddar. OK. It's not the best cheddar in the world. Hardly artisan. It doesn't smell of the farmyard and come with a certified copy of the cow's birth certificate or even a mention of her name. It's factory made in New Zealand. Beggars can't be cheesers.
More than one sample was consumed. Just to make sure.
