WARNING: This post may be slightly over-dramatised*
I have a confession to make. It is very hard for me to admit, as I fear excommunication, or at least mild shunning, from contemporary society. I have been hiding it for years and years, since the first showing of it. It was just so “order of the day” and everybody loved it, I couldn’t reveal my dark secret.
I thought, perhaps, when it first showed its face in the early ‘90s that it’d be a passing phase, that I could get away with my terrible truth. I endured occasion after occasion, smiling sweetly and making the right noises, while inwardly I felt my bile rise.
I have realised now, with ever more daring versions of it constantly being thrown in our faces, that it is here to stay, and now I feel I must clear the air, be honest, and tell my truth…
I really, really, really don’t like pesto. In any form. Its green mushiness does nothing for me. There, I said it.
I wonder if I’m alone on this?
*See? I wasn’t kidding. That’s what boredom at Real Work will do for you on a Tuesday afternoon.