(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: ‘Picking Up the Pieces’ / Sunday, 12th February 2006 / 12:45 Noon
Location: Corridors Outside Great Hall
Open To: Andi
Currently Involving: Troy
Ah, lunch. Something Troy Frogley always looked forward to, of course. He didn't know why so many other students complained about the "heavy Hogwarts food." Meat and potatoes and trifle could do no wrong. Though sometimes he missed the fish and chips he'd live on back home in muggle London during the summers, but really, he'd eat just about anything. Even black pudding which some students looked upon with utter dismay.
Though Troy had found he could eat just about anything and not balloon up as someone might have if they ate like Troy did. Hey, he was an athlete! He had to have fuel!
Though whether or not ice cream and custards counted as fuel, he wasn't willing to admit to. They tasted bloody good and he was able to pack away a few at a meal, so he didn't even care. And Sunday lunch was always fantastic, in his opinion. He strolled out of the Great Hall, stomach feeling a bit full, and yawned lazily. Up to his room for a lovely nap and then maybe some Quidditch and then doing his homework. And more Quidditch. Maybe find Charlie to chat with, someone to console him.
Though food had a wonderful quality of helping him forget the troubles that ailed him. Well, they called it "comfort food" for a reason, after all!
Location: Corridors Outside Great Hall
Open To: Andi
Currently Involving: Troy
Ah, lunch. Something Troy Frogley always looked forward to, of course. He didn't know why so many other students complained about the "heavy Hogwarts food." Meat and potatoes and trifle could do no wrong. Though sometimes he missed the fish and chips he'd live on back home in muggle London during the summers, but really, he'd eat just about anything. Even black pudding which some students looked upon with utter dismay.
Though Troy had found he could eat just about anything and not balloon up as someone might have if they ate like Troy did. Hey, he was an athlete! He had to have fuel!
Though whether or not ice cream and custards counted as fuel, he wasn't willing to admit to. They tasted bloody good and he was able to pack away a few at a meal, so he didn't even care. And Sunday lunch was always fantastic, in his opinion. He strolled out of the Great Hall, stomach feeling a bit full, and yawned lazily. Up to his room for a lovely nap and then maybe some Quidditch and then doing his homework. And more Quidditch. Maybe find Charlie to chat with, someone to console him.
Though food had a wonderful quality of helping him forget the troubles that ailed him. Well, they called it "comfort food" for a reason, after all!