I’m thinking about that great English delicacy derived from the Italian one – Spaghetti on toast, and it’s derivatives – alphabeti spaghetti- where the tubular extensions are formed into letters- supposedly to help kids learn their alphabet. It’s a strange ritual I haven’t done in years. A medium sized tin comes with a ring pull. It’s hard slipping nail-less fingers under that little metal flap, a spoon scrabbles away at it for me and as the lid lifts it gives a tuft of compressed air and a metal ripping yawn.

A sea of orange worms look up from inside the can – straight into the saucepan, a vague waft of something tomatoey hits me and I detect another ingredient – cheese. I ate it as a kid so I guess I will now. The spaghetti is floppy and loose and coats the bald bottom of the saucepan with a strange wig of bubbling hair. Of course now , knowing what real spaghetti is and can be, this all looks artificial and fake, but it’s quick and easy. Spaghetti Bolognese – the second easiest dish in my lexicon of food is simple – 500 grams of mince- a bottle of pasta sauce and a handful of pasta as stiff as the bristles on an outdoor broom – brown the meat boil water and you’ve got a meal in fifteen minutes… but this ‘instant’ spaghetti takes around three.

Fabulous on buttered toast. I saw a slice or two from a loaf and the toaster springs to life with orange glowing bars roasting the cliff faces of the bread. The butter melts like ice cream on a hot day and I add the instant karma. The combination of the melted butter and the sandpaper underbelly of the toast and the tomato fill the hidden stomach of my desire, I munch and crunch like a dodgem car in crazy masticating circles, chomping and chewing my jaws a trampoline- until its gone- almost instantly……