The one that doesn't smell faintly of dinners.

Pale green handbag sitting amongst Autumn leavesWhen the situation calls for it, I like to think I am capable of holding my own in a professional forum. You know the type. The suited up kind. Brushed hair. High heels. That sort of thing.

And recently, the situation called for it. I dressed up. I dug out the fancy handbag, you know, the one that doesn't ever go into the kitchen. The one that doesn't smell faintly of your dinners.

On that morning, the senior recipe tester took our junior recipe testers to school because I had very important places to be. I kissed them all and left early for the bus stop. The commuter bus stop. To catch the bus. The bus that takes commuters into town. To do important things.

Important work is fuelled by coffee, so I filled my travel mug and put said cup in my handbag. I fancied that perhaps the junior recipe testers were vaguely impressed that I was heading out early to do important things...

As I walked out to the garage, I realised I had to drop a box off at the kitchen. The kitchen is near the bus stop, so I figured I could do both in the one trip. Tucking my handbag firmly under my arm, I leaned over to pick up the box.

Coffee poured into my armpit. 

It dribbled onto the box.

I resisted the urge to start yelling, but I did have to flap my shirt in an effort to rapidly cool the coffee down.

I walked back into the house.

"That was quick," commented the senior recipe tester. Now, it should be said that the senior is well used to my leaving several times in the morning, returning often more than once to retrieve the things I have forgotten on the first, second or third attempt at leaving.

On this particular occasion I may have given him a somewhat withering look. "I have coffee in my armpit," I quipped, trying to engender sympathy. "You wouldn't believe what just happened..."

"If it was anyone else, I probably wouldn't" was his truthful reply. He didn't bat an eyelid when I handed him my handbag and asked if he would please wipe it out while I went to change my clothes.

I did eventually get to my meeting. In town. With me, I had a handbag. The fancy one. That doesn't smell faintly of your dinners.

Yes. The one that smells strongly of coffee...

Too many balls in the air? Let us take care of the meals. You gather the people, we'll bring the food. Delicious, healthy, family-style ready made meals delivered to your home.


Dinner on the Table is a Sydney caterer and social enterprise, gifting cooked meals to families living with disability. With every meal you buy and every event you invite us to cater, you are also helping vulnerable families by putting dinner on their tables.

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