Thus, when lunchtime came, I dreaded opening the soggy, white wrap that enclosed my lunch. Dad had a thing about food that "needs eating", which translated to two pieces of bread wrapped around whatever was left of last night's dinner. Sometimes it was potatoes and carrot( yes JUST that with a bit of margarine if I was lucky!) or peas and pasta (with onion on occasion), or pasta and salad ( ie : soggy tomato and lettuce). Usually I just scraped off the filling and ate the bread, then headed off to the tuck shop for a chocolate bar. I never could bring myself to complain to my dad. It seemed sort of sweet that he would make the effort in the first place. After all, he didn't know that his taste buds were any different to the rest of us. The only time I enjoyed my sandwiches if they contained mince, that's alright isn't it?