In the depths of my sickness and despair, after a harrowing 9th week tute, i shuffled like a wounded soldier to tescos to find something to heal my aching bones. Nurofen in hand, I desperately scoured the aisles, crying and listening to celine dion like the absolute pathetic mess i have become. That’s when I saw it. Under the iridescent LED glow of the ready meal aisle, nestled between the Pizza Express doughballs and a questionable looking lasagna, I locked eyes with my one true love. A wasabi katsu curry on clubcard.

The cycle home was a blur. Pedalling to the microwave like my life depended on it as the Oxford tube sailed past, trying to mow me down.

Safely back at 88 St Clements, I unloaded my precious cargo, sat back for 4 minutes and 30 seconds, and brewed a lemsip as I cried once more at a tiktok of a very cute cat in a santa outfit. Suddenly, like a call from the heavens, the microwave cried out. Beep, beep, beep. The plate stopped spinning. I dried my tears and opened the door. The kitchen filled with the thick scent of warm katsu sauce. Peeling back the plastic film, I was struck with the sudden notion that life is worth living. We are all just broken people struggling through this world, coughing, sneezing and crying. Hope is not lost for us: curry exists.

My first mouthful is what can only be described as a religious experience. The smoothness of the sauce, the al dente bite of the microwave rice, the soggy crumb coating of the chicken. On any ordinary day, this would be a slightly disappointing lunch. Not today. This was a wake up call. This was a hug in a small plastic dish. Like Anton Ego in Ratatouille, I was propelled into a world of nostalgic flavour, reminiscing on the days of my youth when a katsu curry at wagamamas was less than a tenner. When I would go ice skating after school at the local rink, which has since been cancelled because they found a condom on the ice last week (big up calverly park). When the biggest problem in life was the seating plan in a GCSE science lesson. Life is more complicated now, but we are still the same people. We crave human connection, christmas spirit, and the meals that remind us that everything is going to be ok. We never have to study GCSE physics again. But we can always come back to the humble katsu.

According to Suzanne Collins, hope is the only thing stronger than fear. I feared for my life and my sanity today. But this humble katsu curry brought me hope. It reminded me of who I am, and how far I have left to go. Now safely tucked up in my bed, I’ll carry this hope into tomorrow, chug a lemsip, and pray for brighter days, new clubcard deals, and my next taste of pure joy. – GG