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[[File:Crystalline tamarind.jpg|thumb|150px|Will not go off for months. Fact.]]
{{a|g|[[File:Sweeties 2.jpg|450|thumb|center|Thought I was joking about the squid-coated peas, did you?]][[File:Crystalline tamarind.jpg|thumb|center|450|Will not go off for months and months. Fact.]]}}''From the '''Archives of the Old Normal''' dept.''
The obscure tropical fruit, digestives, ''Ferrero Rocher'', peanut brittle, unidentifiable gelatinous fruit, dates and the dry and tasteless Asian delicacies that colleagues  bring back from business trips and vacations, by way of guilt, to appease their moribund desk-bound workmates.


[[File:Sweeties 2.jpg|150px|thumb|left|Thought I was joking about the squid-coated peas, did you?]]
The obscure tropical fruit, digestives, ''Ferrero Rocher'', peanut brittle, unidentifiable gelatinous fruit, dates and dry, tasteless Asian delicacies that colleagues bring back from business trips and vacations, by way of guilt-alleviation, to appease their moribund desk-bound workmates, or perhaps just to show off.
However (literally) tasteless, these treats lure a man, like sirens did Odysseus, as {{sex|he}}<ref>The man, obviously, not Odysseus, though the idea of Odysseus struggling to get to the printer, lashing himself to the mast of his boat as {{sex|he}} floats by the five-week-old dregs of a box of authentic Anatolian Turkish delight, is appealing). </ref> makes his way from his desk to the printer.
Remorse, regret and guilt is assured. I don’t know how many squid-coated dried green peas I’ve had, but it’s a lot, and I have not enjoyed a single one of them.


There is a priority to these votive offerings. Cambodian crystallised chili tamarind will linger on the counter untouched for weeks while the Marks & Spencer chocolate afghans will be gone in a flash. And it is a curious truth that however many bags of sea-weed flavoured lychees make their way back from the gift counter at the Narita international terminal, no-one ever brings [[salted fish]] back from holiday in Portugal.  
Since we don’t get to ''see'' our workmates anymore, for fear of breathing on them, this seems to be yet another artefact we must consign to our late lamented bygone office lives.


Or mince, or [[celery]].  
However (literally) tasteless, these treats would lure a man, like the Sirens did Odysseus, as {{sex|he}} made his way from his desk to the printer. (The man, that is, not Odysseus, obviously, though the idea of a Homeric hero lashing himself to his mast as {{sex|he}} floats by the five-week-old dregs of a box of authentic Anatolian Turkish delight, does resonate).


Then again, there’s plenty of that stuff lying around the legal department anyway.
In any case remorse, regret and guilt are assured: I don’t know how many squid-coated dried green peas I’ve had, but it’s a lot, and I have not enjoyed a single one of them.


There was a priority to these votive offerings. Cambodian crystallised chilli tamarind will linger on the counter untouched for weeks — longer even than the squid-coated peas— while the vegan-friendly Peppa Pig sweets — ''which didn’t even come from the Tenerife Airport Duty-Free but from freaking Marks & Sparks in Moorgate'' — will be gone in a flash.


And it is a curious truth that however many bags of sea-weed flavoured lychees would make their way back from the gift counter at Narita international, no-one ever brought [[salted fish]] back from Portugal, or Aberdeen Angus steak mince from Scotland, or [[celery]] from wherever celery is grown. Hell, probably.


 
{{sa}}
 
*[[New normal]]
{{draft}}
*[[Bring your own premises]]
{{egg}}
{{ref}}

Latest revision as of 19:08, 28 October 2020

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Thought I was joking about the squid-coated peas, did you?
Will not go off for months and months. Fact.
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From the Archives of the Old Normal dept.

The obscure tropical fruit, digestives, Ferrero Rocher, peanut brittle, unidentifiable gelatinous fruit, dates and dry, tasteless Asian delicacies that colleagues bring back from business trips and vacations, by way of guilt-alleviation, to appease their moribund desk-bound workmates, or perhaps just to show off.

Since we don’t get to see our workmates anymore, for fear of breathing on them, this seems to be yet another artefact we must consign to our late lamented bygone office lives.

However (literally) tasteless, these treats would lure a man, like the Sirens did Odysseus, as he made his way from his desk to the printer. (The man, that is, not Odysseus, obviously, though the idea of a Homeric hero lashing himself to his mast as he floats by the five-week-old dregs of a box of authentic Anatolian Turkish delight, does resonate).

In any case remorse, regret and guilt are assured: I don’t know how many squid-coated dried green peas I’ve had, but it’s a lot, and I have not enjoyed a single one of them.

There was a priority to these votive offerings. Cambodian crystallised chilli tamarind will linger on the counter untouched for weeks — longer even than the squid-coated peas— while the vegan-friendly Peppa Pig sweets — which didn’t even come from the Tenerife Airport Duty-Free but from freaking Marks & Sparks in Moorgate — will be gone in a flash.

And it is a curious truth that however many bags of sea-weed flavoured lychees would make their way back from the gift counter at Narita international, no-one ever brought salted fish back from Portugal, or Aberdeen Angus steak mince from Scotland, or celery from wherever celery is grown. Hell, probably.

See also