I’ve been craving a sandwich: soft white roll, roast chicken, sharp cheese. A bright little cut of tomato. After I finish this review I’ll walk up to the supermarket and buy myself a hot chook. Sink my teeth in.
It wasn’t my idea. I caught the craving from Laura McPhee-Browne’s Worry Doll. One of her characters longs for the same sandwich, made just so: “there is a particular amount of cheese and chicken that she requires for it to feel the way she needs it to when she chews and swallows.” I know that feeling. There is nothing cheap about cheap pleasure. And Worry Doll understands pleasure.
