So yesterday I was sitting on a bench at Clapham Common tube station, the furthest one from the stairs, eating a Waitrose egg & crab mixture straight from the pot, using a sourdough loaf as edible cutlery. The whole process took something around nine or ten minutes. I was at peace. A few people passed around me and one even sat at the other end of the bench, but nothing could disturb my vile tranquillity. Is not there something so joyous about eating a jar of marinaded herrings with one's fingers while walking down Gloucester Road? Does it not soothe each nerve to allot appropriate quantities of wasabi to each hosomaki as your fellow passengers try not to look? Your own examples requested, please.