Dreams of cheese

When I was in India I kept have fantasies about cheese. I ask you, cheese! While we were there, my diet largely consisted of pulses, rice and vegetables and the odd fusty biscuit so I reckon my body must have been gagging for the protein. Imagine this. It’s early evening on the coffee plantation, deep in the West Ghats. It’s already dark so Tim and I are in full combat gear (the mosquitos are hungry – and so are we). We’re lying on our bed, torturing each other with images of cheese doorsteps. Sainsbury’s multi-seed loaf with a nice strong cheddar. Maybe a smattering of chutney, maybe not. The grill is on, but we may not even bother with it, such is our wanton lust! By the end of our stay on the plantation, all our fellow travellers, Brits or not, were dreaming of cheese too. I swear to God, if someone had come in with even a mini Cheddar, they would have been ripped apart, such was our mass craving. Anyway, got to go and eat some CCCHHEEEESSSSEEE.