A ham and cheese toasty in brown sliced toast.

I missed the nosebag of oats, yogurt and fruit pieces this morning. All that was left in the canteen at work were the ready-made sandwiches. It's difficult to dress a goat's cheese, rocket and pesto panino as breakfast, plus it foreign, so I took the lonely ham and cheese toasty back to my table with a small cappuccino in a branded paper cup (Despite asking for it "for here" not "to go".) 

        

        This was a master stroke of comfort eating. A cheese and ham toasty is the Epicurean equivalent of a soft fleece baby blanket to an over tired toddler. I was late for breakfast and so ate alone in splendid isolation.