Many years ago, I was briefly hospitalised in London and was recovering in a public ward. The food was awful (but thanks to the good old NHS, free).
In the next bed was this man in his late 30s/early 40s (I guess). One day he said to me that he thought the food was wonderful. I assumed he was being sarcastic, but it became clear that he really meant it.
I asked him what he usually ate at home. He replied that every day he had fish 'n chips from the local chip shop. Except Sundays, when he had chicken 'n chips instead. Again, I thought he must be joking, but no.
I got the impression he was one of these lonely single men whose mother always cooked for him until she passed away and he had no clue how to survive. I don't know why he was in hospital, but I could guess.
