The 14th of February wasn’t the best day this year. I went to work feeling hopeful and came home feeling hungry. The kind of hunger that makes you eat an egg mayo butty, 3 bags of crisps and a Muller rice pudding pot in the space of ten minutes. The kind of hunger that can only be described in one other word – depressed.
My driving instructor picked me up at 1 o’clock and we drove around for an hour and a half, then he dropped me off at the test centre. Long story short: I didn’t pass my test. And even though I know it’s not a big deal, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit ashamed of myself. We are all our worst critics.
I had a little cry and then turned on the TV. Ratatouille was on. I forgot how much I love this film.
Rewind: a couple of weeks ago my work moved offices. We’re now situated at an old conference centre by the canal and there’s a lot of wildlife around the office. And by wildlife, I mean rabbits, ducks… and mice. The building hasn’t been inhabited for a long while and it’s been used as a dumping ground by the public with rubbish scattered everywhere. The ducks don’t really leave the water but the mice have invited themselves in. It’s not great.
Fastforward to Ratatouille: I’m partial to an animation but this particular film makes me feel warmer and fuzzier than any other. It even made me sympathise with our little friends at work.
My favourite scene is when France’s top food critic Anton Ego first tastes the little chefs dish. His face lights up and he’s taken back to the first time he tasted ratatouille as a child.
On what was a bad day, this film reminded me that, like the little chef, I am talented and passionate in my own ways. So I’m not a great driver, is that really such a bad thing?
I put on my big girl pants and went to the pub. Afterall, it was Valentine’s Day and what better way to spend it than drinking a copeous amount of prosecco on a school night.