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"Go forth Mr. Crab" he said, "go forth into the highways and byways and do some good old market research on the current state of the forecourt/service station food offer". "Bring me back tales of dodgy sausage rolls, skimpy salads and soggy sandwiches, not to mention the ubiquitous cardboard croissant" he chuckled and then suddenly, gravely he added "But seriously Crab off you go, and don't come back until you have an intimate knowledge of food on the road. I do not want to see you till Independence Day, is that clear?" I stuck out my hand for the proffered banknotes muttering "Yes Sir" and tried to keep my excitement under control. Out on the road I thought to myself Finally I was getting away from the sheer unadulterated boredom of the complaints department cellar. To eat food, no less and to spend the bosses money at the same time to boot! Now that's what i call work. Bring it on.

So I just got back. Two and a half kilos heavier and with a new respect for the bosses knowledge of the service station food offer.

It was just as he had predicted it would be. For a fleeting moment I wondered if the trip had been a ruse to get me out of the way for a month but after eating the 9th dried up sausage roll I could see how right he was. The guy is clairvoyant! It was all soggy sausage rolls, skimpy croissants and dodgy salads (that doesn't sound right somehow, but never mind... ) you get the picture.

The boss loves his food. But even if it's a fine restaurant he expects value for money. It's not enough for the boss to get 5 star food unless it has a portion of love in the preparation.

"A dash of love brings out the real true flavour of the dish Mr. Crab" he exclaimed as I presented the spreadsheet of results which I'd compiled on my culinary sortie. I couldn't help but think that no spreadsheet could possibly portray the sensational awfulness of my forays into forecourt food but the boss read silently. "Crab" he said " it's time to raise the bar ".

Bet you're all sorry you dreamed of a White Christmas now eh? Or maybe it was the ten minute version of Let it Snow at the office Christmas party that did the trick. Anyway while you're skating around the roundabouts of this wonderful country of ours during this record breaking little cold snap, (especially those strange roundabouts with traffic lights that we seem to love so much), ponder this.

Well it's that time of year again. That no-mans land of a week between Christmas and New Year. No sooner have we finished indulging, bulging and generally spoiling ourselves when suddenly another reason to be cheerful pops up on December's horizon.

Everybody has their own particular favorite type of milk, Some like the skimmed stuff others the fortified. Those of us who are struggling with our circumference opt for the low fat variety while the skinny ones indulge in the full fat. It's a good job that the colors of the packs tell us the difference between the different grades of milk.

I was listening to Joe Duffy's Liveline a few days ago, the milk debate was raging. I was very proud of the fact that the new Applegreen own brand milk is both farmed and processed in the Republic of Ireland. I know that in the case of some of our competitors this is not true. But it does seem a little difficult to get to the facts in this debate. It seems it is not enough that your milk is farmed and produced in the Republic of Ireland. Nor is it enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with that icon of Irish sport Paul O' Connell and wave the National Dairy Council's brand proudly.

As I was trying to find a shirt to wear I fell over my travel bag and banged my head on the wall.
The phone rang. As I grabbed it, I fell over the bag again. By the time I focused on the voice and realised it was my Gran, she was already in full flight halfway through a story, for all I knew. As I zoomed in on the voice, she was saying something about an Applegreen store down the road which was not selling the best coffee on the road. My head hurt. I finally got her to slow down and start at the beginning.

My Granny lives in Templeogue. Her mind is still very much humming along like an old sewing machine. She swore on Granda's grave that there is a new Applegreen station open just down the road from her house. I tried to tell her that she must be mistaken. No, she said, she knows an Applegreen station when she sees one and she had peeped in the window on her way home from church. (She's very proud of me working at Applegreen, I never told her I was only working in the complaints department...) Well she insisted that I come over that evening and see for myself. I agreed hurriedly, trying to say goodbye without being rude. As I reached to put the phone back in the cradle I could still hear her talking away about the station not having the "Best Coffee On the Road" sign, but she was still sure it was an Applegr.., I hung up, and fell over the bag again.

That evening I drove over to her house, and, of course, there is no new Applegreen station. There is a station belonging to an oil company down the road from her house, but surely I asked, that wasn't the station she had been talking about? She replied it was. I could see she was getting upset, she was beginning to think her eyes were failing . "Don't worry Gran" I said, " I'll make an appointment for you with the optician, you probably just need new glasses".
I could see she was still a little confused when I said goodbye. I promised to call her the next evening to find out how she got on.

I did ring. Funny thing is her optician says she has tremendous eyes for her age, she doesn't need new glasses after all.
I forgot to mention I fell over the bag again a few times...maybe I do

The boss is not a bit happy about my recent posts. "I understand you are a young man Mr. Crab, and your mind is full of extraneous nonsense like music and movies, but you really must start being relevant to the company. Low fuel prices, always, the best coffee on the road, great food and a welcome on the mat, that's what we're about Mr. Crab" he harrumphed as he bustled out the door. "Tell the people about what matters for goodness sake or you may end up down here in the complaints department for ever." There may have been more, but thankfully the door closed tightly behind him and silence fell over my cellar cell.