I have learned a valuable life lesson from the guy at the cheese counter

THE children suspect I’m having an affair with the guy who works on the cheese counter in our local supermarket.

I can state categorically that I am not having an affair with him for two reasons. One – I’m probably old enough to be his mother! And Two – he has a pony tail. I’m sorry but I just could not have relations with a man who requires more hair product than me! Ponytails are for girls and horses. The End.

Anyway the reason the children think I’m having an affair is because every time I go to the supermarket I gravitate towards the cheese counter and end up talking to this guy for ages. That’s not because I fancy him, it’s because I love cheese. I wish I didn’t. I wish I did fancy him then I probably wouldn’t have a cheese belly, nor would I be contemplating buying a burka to wear on the beach this summer!

This young fella whom the children think is my paramour, is a walking encyclopaedia when it comes to cheese. He has a map on the wall behind him and he can tell you where all the cheeses come from and how they were made. He gives me free samples too. And I don’t think that’s because he’s into older women. I think his boss told him to.

Last week after I purchased €10 worth of Maasdam, he obviously felt he should extend the small talk a little bit to give me my money’s worth (because no other gobshite would spend that much on one chunk of cheese!). He took out a fresh massive wheel of the Maasdam and even took a picture of me holding it! Look don’t judge. I don’t get much excitement in my life ok?!

‘Do you love cheese?’ I asked him eagerly. ‘Nah, not really.’ He said with a shrug. He’s from Eastern Europe so every utterance is accompanied by a shrug. ‘What do you mean? You must love cheese! You know so much about it.’

He shrugs again. ‘It’s just food. No big deal. I eat to sustain myself. When I go to a restaurant I never eat the starter, the main and the dessert. It would be just too much. I eat maybe the starter and a small main. That is plenty.’

Quite frankly I’m horrified at first. Imagine going to a restaurant and not eating everything on the menu. ‘You don’t even eat the cheeseboard?’ I ask him shocked. He shakes his head. ‘No. Too heavy and then you are too full to enjoy yourself. Where I come from you eat little and often and you stop when you start to feel full.’

So THAT’S where I’ve been going wrong! You’re supposed to STOP when you START to feel full, not when you feel you’re about to explode. ‘You’re very sensible for a young fella,’ I tell him. He shrugs modestly.

I’d say he’d be no laugh whatsoever if you were having an affair with him!

SO THAT’S WHERE I’VE BEEN GOING WRONG. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STOP WHEN YOU START TO FEEL FULL, NOT WHEN YOU ARE ABOUTTOEXPLODE!