Until today. I've discovered that if I lose that Zen like concentration that I must maintain between putting my shoes on and leaving the house I can actually contrive to leave the lunch at home.
This morning you may have spotted a wild eyed bloke in a red car at the traffic lights in Cottingham who suddenly uttered a very naughty word, followed by another bunch of naughty words, after frantically looking around inside his car. Oh well. I went home for lunch and ate my packup in the kitchen.