Cheese on toast....or is it????

Sometimes melancholia renders cooking obselete. Now I know I am now advocating kitchen comfort or stimulation as the Great Solution to divorce and its corresponding ills. But the sad fact is that those down-right foetal moments still require fuel, well fuel that doesn't come from a bottle anyway. So- cheese on toast it is, well actually, it's not. It is cheese- I used Cheddar or as our Australian cousins would say "Tasty" cheese. Because what I actually did was preheat my oven to about 200 degrees and get out a baking tray which I then lined with baking paper. I already feel like crap and quite frankly I do not need undone washing up to remind me that housekeeping is something I am not going to be remembered by. I the took a rustic ciabatta style roll which I split into two pieces. I drizzled the cut pieces with olive oil ( I KNOW but the heart and the stomach, quite frankly want what they want- just go with it for now, plenty of time to get macrobiotic later). The aforesaid cheese is then drizzled on top of the cut side and sprinkled furiously ( and I do mean that) with freshly ground black pepper. Then, and this is crucial- I applied a few splashes of Worcestor sauce to each piece. You may think you dont like this stuff, believe me, it makes this comfort meal feel special It's the difference between drinking a chilled Swedish made cider brewed with fresh strawberries, or getting a warm bottle ( plastic for sure) of Strongbow in terms of your self esteem the morning after. Now consider getting into P.Js, or if you have been wearing them all day, put on new ones, a shower wouldn't go amiss either. Now the cleaning up of yourself, the fresh clothes, these will all aid recovery. But the crisp, yet yielding ( the roll, it has more substance than mere bread, it can handle the truth,( she says a la J Nicholson) albeit of a hot oven) melted, slightly scorched snack will be ready. Put on a TV show that makes you happy, or some music. Eat, allow yourself to enjoy, and then perhaps go to bed. Tomorrow as my old mucca Scarlett used to say - fist raised to the sky as God is her witness- is another day. And she didn't get to eat scrummy melted piquant cheese spiked with black pepper on a crisp, chewy, yielding roll. Maybe that's why she looked so good in a corset. Thank god for Christian Hendricks, I fear I may enter a 'curves' stage before we emerge from this tunnel. Sweet Dreams.