I remember my education in two parts; the years Blod (yes, a real Welsh name) cooked my lunches and the years she didn’t. It breaks my heart that school dinners have a rep for being beige and bland when that was so far from the experience I had. Blod cooked the tastiest meals, nothing ground-breaking or exotic but every lunch guaranteed a heart-warming dish. It didn’t matter what had happened that morning (Sioned picked her nose and ate it, or that Mrs Jones bored us half to death) …Lunch was coming.
I BLAME BLOD.
I BLAME BLOD.
I BLAME BLOD.
I remember my education in two parts; the years Blod (yes, a real Welsh name) cooked my lunches and the years she didn’t. It breaks my heart that school dinners have a rep for being beige and bland when that was so far from the experience I had. Blod cooked the tastiest meals, nothing ground-breaking or exotic but every lunch guaranteed a heart-warming dish. It didn’t matter what had happened that morning (Sioned picked her nose and ate it, or that Mrs Jones bored us half to death) …Lunch was coming.