I'm actually getting sandwich withdrawal. Generally, my peregrinations through the terra incognita of sandwichery accompany her frequent absences to parts foreign. She doesn't quite see my pursuit of bread-based quintessence in the same celestial light as I. When she's away and I can't be bothered cooking I just make a sandwich out of anything I can find and I'm frequently too lazy to go shopping, so any significant absence quickly gets interesting. Bombay Bad Boy pot noodle sandwiches are pure unco (you need to use less water though, the noodles should be juicy – not wet).
We were supposed to be going to SE Asia this month and I was quite excited about introducing her to milk sandwiches. An enthusiasm she didn't seem to be working up to. Of course, I could make one here, just beyond the London Pale, but it wouldn't be the same as munching down on one in Kowloon. Plus you need proper naff bread and I don't have any. White bread, by-the-by, is always sandwidgely preferable to the brown stuff*.
*as a former employee of a flour mill, I can assure you that it's not brown because of all the healthy stuff, it's brown because entire regiments of mice and rats routinely went through the rollers.
