If you woke up tomorrow and you were made of cheese, what kind of cheese would you be?
It’s one of those questions we constantly ask ourselves.
Would your friends still like you?
Would they eat you alive?
Would you end up grated, bubbling on top of Mum’s mac and cheese at 180 degrees?
Or at a picnic, being hacked away at with a blunt but adequate fork-tipped spear…
Sometimes I like to imagine myself as an extra mature cheddar. Salty and approachable. At home in almost any occasion.
Other times I dream I’m made of gorgonzola.
Called upon to spark a reaction. To separate the part-timers from the connoisseurs.
A forgotten about, smelly, secret weapon in the back of the fridge just waiting to be used.
If I’m not thinking about cheese or scribbling down ideas, I’ll probably be playing golf.
I’m Andrew.