So I've just come back from a trip to Whitby with college, and the trip was awesome, we got all our filming done, everything was great, got pissed, y'know the usual good stuff. But that's not what this is about. Let me elaborate. (I'm aware this is a long thread, if you don't want to read my story, then skip to the bottom paragraph)
The food at the place we stayed was awful. I'm going to try my best to describe the meal from the first night. Imagine if you will, a roast chicken breast, now imagine that chicken breast with a jacket potato, and some ratatouille, initially it didn't look bad, which I imagine is what you're all thinking. But let me tell you the tale that I have named "The steel breast"
It was half past 6, dinner was ready, we all went down to the hall to eat, we were the first there "Excellent" we thought "We get to eat first, and there's no scrounging for places to sit" So we line up, and we collect our food, chicken, jacket potato and ratatouille, "Mmm this actually looks pretty good" we all mumble to each other, as we sit down with our food, I am the first to pick up my knife and fork, and being as hungry as I was, I went straight for the chicken as aposed to cutting my potato in half and spreading butter across it.
My fork decended towards the chicken, sweat dripping off my forheard, it had been a long day and since I was acting I had makeup on and I'd been working hard, so I was ready for this meal. My fork moved ever closer towards the chicken, my mouth now watering with anticaptation, I could almost taste the juicy delicious bird.
My fork makes contanct with the meat, but something is wrong, something is oh so very wrong, instead of the fork stabbing through the soft meat, I'm met with some resistance, a lot of resistance, I push harder, put my plate tips, this is the point at which everyone is staring I could almost hear them saying "Get down!"
I apply more force to the fork, and instead of it stabbing into the hard armoured shell of what was my food, it slips, and so does my hand.
My hand crashes down onto the side of the plate, catapulting my food through the air and across the table.
The End.
So you're probably wondering why this is in the happy thread, and it's because although that was annoying and I only ate bread and mini cheddars that night, it was hilarious. There's another reason as well, if you can be arsed to read this far.
The food on the second night was dreadful as well, it looked like what can only be described as shit from many different animals mixed together to create some form of brown and green mush with pastry, so I didn't even bother eating any, once again, I had bread and mini cheddars
The reason this is on the happy thread is because I've just arrived home, and the frist thing I did when I got home, was turn on the oven, open the fridge, and withdraw sasuages, bacon and eggs, after everything was cooked, I ventured towards the bread bin, and I can quite happily tell you, that it was the best bacon, sausage and egg sandwich I've ever made in my entire life. Words can't describe how happy I am now I have actually eaten proper food, I don't even care that I haven't eaten properly for days, now that I've had that sandwich that's how good it was. I am happy.