Meals on Wheels

Al's grandfather got meals on wheels until he moved in with the Milway parents to grumble continually and generally cause grief (as every old person should). The tepid brick of stodge that arrived in its aluminium casing each day was exactly suited to grandfather’s dietary preferences: suet puddings, pies, peas, mash, gravy, fish in white sauces with green bits in – food entirely untainted by any foreign influence. For me, this food is novelty comfort food; for him, it’s the food he’s eaten his whole life. Nothing beyond bland has ever passed his lips, although as part of the RAF he travelled the world. This is a man who lived in India for a year without tasting a curry and expresses surprise each and every time he sees us tucking into pizza (there’s nothing wrong with his brain, he knows what a pizza is – it’s just his polite way of letting us know he doesn’t entirely approve of such stuff.)

So what food will we be delivered in our dotage? What foil boxes will we be sliding into the oven to reheat (or, more likely by then, what plastic Tupperware will we be popping in the microwave)? Thai Green Curry and sticky Jasmine Rice? Fajitas? Lamb Bhuna and a Naan Bread? Shredded Chilli Beef and Egg Fried Rice? Spicy Ramen? Pizza?

Let’s hope so.

Let’s hope we’re not being handed trays of Gammon and Pineapple, and if Bangers and Mash is on the menu, it’d better be bangers covered in honey and sweet potato mash. If not, the plastic boxes that I get delivered each day to my doorstep will not be courtesy of the Meals on Wheelers but the Ghurkha Cottage. Maybe I should look into getting that pension sorted…