I read an interesting article yesterday about the eating patterns of people in the work place and how it affects what and how we chow. The words “already planning what to eat by 11am” rang true to every syllable, especially since I’d already asked my colleague in front of me what she had for lunch just before getting comfy with my tea to read.

The article read that we are highly influenced by the people around us, for acceptance and allowance on what we intake. If, say, there was a bigger person reaching for food, we would subconsciously reach for less because we fear becoming the same size. But if a skinnier person goes for the same portion, we either equal it or go for more because in the same respect, we tell ourselves that ‘if she can eat that much and look like that..’ then we can do the same too. If we all eat that large piece of chocolate cake, then it’s ok, we forgive each other because we are all in it together.

Yesterday was prime example of that. Us five girls had already set a place to graze for lunch, Planet Organic, and made our way down Tottenham Court Road. I only went along for the walk and contently waited in the queue with my friends as they ordered. Soon enough though I found myself staring through the glass of the buffet cart with the mesmerising smell of goodness enticing me and the staff smiling so organically back at me, waiting for my order. I had brought my lunch with me already and was on a budget too, so naturally my response was, “Um I’ll have the vegetable lasagna please.” What? No! That’s not what I meant to say! Darn. And then there it was, in my hands – an organic carton filled with organic goodness, served with that organic smile. Somehow knowing that justified me handing over my plastic to the cashier. This was not going to plan at all.

One by one, we gathered to the side comparing food purchases as we waited for the others to come back with theirs too and eventually exited to indulge back at work.

But what is this that catches my eye? A man walks past with a huge tray of sumptuous looking cakes, good enough to rush him and run screaming with it all the way down the road like I’d won the Olympics. With one swift gaze, I follow his path of origin and there it was in all its glowing glory. The ultimate palace of sins. Patisserie Valerie. My eyes widened. The cafe seemed to engulf me. Then I realised its enormity was actually due to us all walking in, with me leading the way. Scanning the stalls intently like Mr. Cruise and a smile on my face like a kid at Christmas, this Mission was definitely Possible. And again, like magic, there was a Nata Tart in my hand in all its beauty.

As I stood back to watch my friends squabble over which devilish slice of cake they wanted, I chomped on my Nata, contemplating that article from this morning. I shook my head in it’s utter trueness. There I was in their queue, and here they are now in mine.