Lunchtime

Not making my decision, I sat on the smooth wooden bench pondering whether I should proceed to the hot queue or follow a gorgeous young man to the salad bar. But of course adding a little concern over my diet. Surprisingly, temptation won me over and I proceeded to the hot queue. I picked up a smooth knotted tray with cracks on the side and glistening metal cutlery, which gave a cold tingling rush up my fingers. I gazed at my choice of steaming hot food, and my mouth watered like a hosepipe.

I was overjoyed to view that the food I had been longingly waiting for was none other than a roast.

In my glee, I happily positioned my tray ready to be served. When all of a sudden, I was knocked over by a vicious plump teacher. As he reached for the plate, I heard him gasping for air as he was out of breath from the stroll up the hall to obtain his cutlery and his tray. The slices of pork were laid out presentably and for a split second I held myself back from not wanting to ruin the décor. There were a variety of delicious, juicy looking vegetables, which I immediately spooned out on to my plate. I was disappointed to observe that I could not select my own potatoes, as the chef would have the pleasure of doing that for me.

The puddings appeared to be remarkably lush. The custard was delicately poured over the sponge; I could sense that the custard had a thick texture with a sweet taste. There was not a satisfying amount prepared, therefore I had to wait. While waiting, I fixed my eyes on a tub of assorted fruits. The oranges, to my surprise, were not squashed. I noticed the orange coloured texture was rough like a patterned concrete path.

After I acquired my decent amount of pudding, I sauntered to a decent looking table and laid my tray.

The unbearable thought of the effort getting tomorrows food is beyond me, as I dig through the hot appetizing food, and enkoy the rest of my meal.