Here we go. The usual whinge about train food!
Anyone had a good one?
As I speed towards London, the HOT bacon roll eventually devoured, i'm left thinking how little it tasted like a home-made jobby.
The roll itself had turned into a brown golf ball, and the bacon was the rubber windings inside.
That's some powerful train microwave. At least the golf ball had cooled down in the 30 miles or so past Crewe. From 400c to 300c that is.
The plastic wrapper had become a new element, like thin glass.
My fellow passengers in coach K thanked me for the instant sauna when said wrapper was opened, even if it did smell like a draylon sofa on fire.
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As the tannoy keeps repeating. See it, Say it, Sort it!
