Some days just don’t go in your favour. Like when you wake up on the first day of your week-long holiday from work after a dinner party the night before and remember that you have to be at a wedding. In Southampton. And it’s raining that kind of hard, grey, soul-sapping rain that the Brits seem to do so well.
So you drag yourself out of the house and lug a week’s worth of clothes to the station in a rucksack, dressed in a suit and balancing a copy of The Times beneath your arm and underneath your umbrella, only to be told by the least friendly customer service woman ever that the ticketing system has changed and having not printed your ticket off, it is now worthless.
And then you catch yourself questioning whether it’s really necessary to be so defensive when you are behind glass, and as a result have no need to be. And also whether you are becoming a thug without noticing, the sort of person who frightens women in ticket booths in train stations.
But in the end, none of that matters. Because of the Pret a Manger croissant in your bag.
Pret a Manger croissants have 9.0g of saturated fat. That’s the equivalent of at least one entire meal, or two Mars Bars, in one item. If you’re a woman, that would be basically half your saturated fat consumption for the day. The chocolate ones are even better, at 14.3g of saturated fat.
However. They are every bit as good as you would expect.
I have a friend who asserted once that anything starts to taste good if you chuck enough butter at it (even seafood), and I think she has a point. Because Pret’s croissants taste like sunshine in pastry form. They are warm, comforting, and make even the most grim of grey days seem brighter. They are the antidote to train rage.
Sure, I can appreciate that Pret a Manger may be destroying independent retailers, another evil multi-national chain that is making high streets across the world identical to one another. In the long run, they are probably a bad thing.
That said, I would never dare protest against them. They’d only bring round free pastries, and then I wouldn’t stand a chance.