I enjoyed a little but lovely happy moment today whilst waiting in line for my lunch. There’s a small and fairly unremarkable looking Turkish cafe on the Caledonian Road that, in my humble opinion, makes some of the best fresh sandwiches in North London. The cafe’s friendly and flirty manager seems to know everyone, if not by name by sandwich filling. And as I’m only ever in the area on a Tuesday (and because I don’t buy my lunch there every week) I’m always impressed by his ability to remember my order with perfect accuracy; chicken tikka with mint yoghurt on a poppyseed baguette with extra cucumber. Today the lunch queue was a long one and I found myself towards the back, sandwiched (chortle, chortle!) between an impatient man with a list that suggested he was ordering lunch for his entire office, and a trio of giggling, shrieking girls talking loudly to each other as they teetered on their heals. In the midst of my ‘should I stay or should I go?’ thoughts, my lovely Turkish ‘sandwichier’ caught my eye, gave me a wink and placed my freshly-made order on the counter, gesturing for me to step forward to claim my lunch. No one seemed to notice my unintentional queue jumping and I was in and out of the cafe in less than 3 minutes, thus arriving at work early and smugly satisfied, both nutritionally and logistically. How’s that for service!