Breakfast buffets can bring out the worst in me – and you have to watch your back!

THERE are only a few things in Life I hate. I hate spiders and anchovies. I hate crocs and leggings, bullies and liars. But what also makes my Top Ten Hate List is buffets. I despise buffets with a passion.

There are several reasons for this. Most of the time the food is cheap s***e so that the providers of said buffets can increase their profit margins as much as possible. You never know how long the food’s been lying around or who’s been sticking their fingers in it. Secondly, buffets make people greedy. I know this because I am that soldier. People equate buffets with stuffing their faces with as much grub as they can possibly swallow without puking it back up again. Thirdly, buffets make you paranoid. ‘Will people look if I go up a third time? Are they counting the croissants on my plate?’ Yes they bloody are because everyone watches everyone else at a buffet to see how much they’re taking.

On my honeymoon I stayed on this luxurious Caribbean island where everything was all-inclusive. I took this to mean everything was ‘free’ and spent the entire fortnight stalking the food buffets trying to shovel as much food into my gob as I could physically manage so I could get my money’s worth. I came home the size of a beached whale with everyone thinking I was pregnant.

So imagine my disappointment to discover on our recent stay in a hotel abroad that breakfast was a buffet affair. The greedy guts that lurks inside me reared its ugly head as I did relays up and down going for fruit, cereal, fry, pastries – the whole works. My children, however, are not morning people and refused to eat anything, much to my dismay, preferring to stick their faces in their phones and sip water.

So I took matters into my own hands and grabbed a handful of croissants and rolls from the buffet before wrapping them in a napkin for later. Himself was mortified. ‘Well we did pay for them,’ I said.

Just as we were about to leave I was approached by a waiter who pointed at my bundle. I played innocent and ignored him, clutching my food parcel tightly. ‘Madame you cannot bring that with you,’ he said quietly. ‘Bring what?’ I asked. ‘ The food. You cannot bring the food with you, only at the table. My boss will be very cross.’ The Eldest glares at me. ‘YOU are making a show of us.’ ‘Ah feck!’ Reluctantly I hand over the parcel but not before grabbing one last pain au chocolat and stuffing it in my mouth. See? This is why I hate buffets.

I TOOK MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS AND GRABBED CROISSANTS AND ROLLS, WRAPPING THEM IN A NAPKIN FOR LATER