A Man and His Bernard Matthews: The Projection Skip to main content

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Mystery Bag

The biting night air of the multi-story parking lot hit Danni like a physical blow. Jet-lagged and disoriented after two weeks in the sun, she fumbled for her car keys, the familiar concrete maze feeling utterly alien. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture of a large brown handbag slung over her shoulder. She paused. This wasn't hers . Danni remembered her small, colourful clutch, packed light for the resort. This bag was hefty, coarse leather, dark and unadorned. A sudden, faint thump pulsed from deep within its confines, vibrating against her hip. Her breath hitched. She didn’t recall buying it, let alone packing it. The parking lot stretched, vast and empty under the sickly yellow glow of the sodium lamps. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, twist. A cold dread began to coil in her stomach. What if it wasn't a souvenir she’d forgotten? What if it wasn't even hers? Her heart hammered against her ribs. Slowly, deliberately, Danni’s trembling hand reached for ...
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A Man and His Bernard Matthews: The Projection

The frigid air of the frozen food aisle at ASDA was a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat outside. I shivered slightly as I scanned the shelves, searching for the perfect Bernard Matthews product to satisfy my cravings. I knew this wasn't the most glamorous of tasks, but it was a necessary one.



As I picked out a pack of turkey drummers, a woman passed by with her cart, giving me a disapproving look. I couldn't blame her, I was probably the only person in the entire store with a shopping list solely consisting of Bernard Matthews products. But I didn't care. I had to have them, no matter what anyone else thought.

Next on my list was Morrisons, a few streets away. I hurried through the aisles, picking up turkey burgers and turkey escalopes. I couldn't help but wonder if Waitrose carried any Bernard Matthews products, but quickly dismissed the thought. Waitrose was too posh for my beloved processed meats.

As I made my way to the checkout, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. Was my love for Bernard Matthews products a guilty pleasure? Maybe, but I didn't care. They were a taste of my childhood, and I couldn't imagine giving them up.

But as I loaded my individual bag of Bernard products into the trolley, I couldn't help but wonder if there was a more refined way to enjoy my favorite foods. Maybe I could find them at Waitrose, or even Ocado. But then again, maybe that wasn't the point. Some things were just meant to be simple, uncomplicated pleasures. And for me, that was Bernard Matthews products.

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