Breakfast

It's too early for cake. Regardless, the rather geeky-looking man sitting opposite me on the train stuffs a large slice of Victoria Sandwich while watching a film on his laptop. The bites he takes are enormous and ungainly, vulgar even. He struggles to chew them, open-mouthed, and I wonder what the hurry is as I note his wrinkled brow. He is unself-conscious, staring intently at the screen, so what can it be but hunger or greed? The cake looks homemade; firm yellow sponge, white buttercream, deep pink jam and a dusting of icing sugar. It deserves to be savoured. Its baker, I am sure, would be disappointed.