I love toast, whether it be warm toast with butter and marmalade, beans on toast or gooey melted cheese on toast, even fish paste on toast works for me. But a colleague of mine must surely take the biscuit toast when it comes to eating the blooming stuff.
This dear young man – Toast-boy – can eat a loaf of bread every single day, which, as he is skinnier than a bean sprout, shouldn’t be too much of a problem or be any of my business. But as he eats from the free supply of bread for all staff members, he is starting to attract attention. And to be honest, if he continues he might find himself being decked with a stale loaf by a disgruntled and hungry colleague.
A couple of times I’ve had the pleasure of sharing the bread board with him, and I have to say I find myself speechless as he piles slices on his plate before smearing them with umpteen different toppings. He’s not fussy about the bread he likes either, brown, white, seed, healthy muesli, nope he is a man of variety. Clearly he likes to pace himself, and hits the bread bin roughly three times a day, and always at the same time. At one stage I wondered if he packed it all up and took it home for the family, but no, that can’t be possible as he devours half of it as he makes his way back to his desk – no doubt his metabolism working ninety-to-the-dozen.
It’s become so amusing and well known now, that last week when we had our official cake break, sponsored by the office that is, you could see all eyes glued to Toast-boy as he hit the table, piling up his plate. I didn’t see this, but apparently he helped himself to two bags of olives, as well as a tower of other savouries. Oh-my what a joy he is to watch
This morning as, I spread my peanut butter, I thought I’d break the ice and have a chat with him, but we only got as far as his drinking habits of hot water and honey before it started to seem pretty obvious that I was snooping.
P, our kitchen dictator has her beady eye on him, and while she has had a bit of a giggle so far, I can feel she will not be able to stop herself from blasting him into the stratosphere shortly, as she does with the rest of us when leaving a humble crumb on the kitchen counter.
It will be a case of, is it a bird, is it a plane, err no, it’s orbiting Toast-boy, peanut butter pot attached to his bum…