RICHARD BROMHALL

CITY OF LITERATURE

Dear Sainsbury’s Meal Deal, I loved you, no question. You know that, don’t you? It wasn’t only the satisfaction you brought. You were there for me, and you know it too, don’t you? As I ascended Hockley and Goose Gate each lunchtime, I knew you were waiting, ready to continue our love afair: tearing of bread, crunch of crisp, hiss of unscrewed bottle top. I would sit back in my chair and, for a few brief moments, life was perfect. But then March arrived. I worked from home, and when the restrictions came – ‘you can leave the house for one hour’s exercise every day’ – I had no choice but to comply. Where was my nearest Saino’s? Over half an hour’s walk away! And I couldn’t get to you. I wanted to, desperately, but I wouldn’t have made it back in time. We used to see each other every day, so this long-distance relationship was tough. I promised you I would be loyal, and I meant it, but then something happened: I met Shakshuka. She’s from Morocco. She’s healthy. And she can even be cooked as a vegan option. Because of her, I’ve lost weight, I’ve got more energy, and my work rate is up – no more sluggish afernoons now, my love! Does she satisfy me in the way you do? You know she doesn’t. How could

she? But she’s better for me. We both know it, and she contains something special that you, quite frankly, do not: sophistication. She’s got cumin seeds, smoked paprika, and SAFFRON. She melts on my tongue, and delightful baked egg adds a deep taste of which you could only dream. Could you ever give me that, Meal Deal? You know you can’t. I’m moving on. I have to. And as much as you tempt me, I must resist. We were good together for a time, but it’s time to put it to rest, my sweet. Others will devour you, and as much as I will always love you deep down, there’s nothing I can do, so forget me Sainsbury’s Meal Deal, and move on.

Forever yours, Richard (Nottingham City of Literature)