Better no beans than a lake of beans

I love breakfast. Once in a while I’ll get a takeout fry up when I’m on-the-go. The people are lovely at the place I go to. But there’s that peculiar preoccupation with a lake of baked beans.

I can’t stand a soggy hash brown, so I’ve taken to selecting the hash browns first. They place ‘em in the takeout box. Then two fried eggs, in they go. Then bacon. My strategy is to ensure the hash browns are protected by a buffer!

Finally, I say “Just a tablespoon of beans please.” And what I mean by that is literally what I’ve said – I want a tablespoon of beans. No more, no less. With breakfast items, I’m creating an algorithm that will enable me to build a tower of components for one mouthful – a 50p sized piece of bacon, and hash brown, and egg, topped with 4 or 5 beans and ketchup. Together, stabbed through on the fork and devoured, it’s heaven. A lake of beans is death to tower components, as it takes over the plate, making the hash browns akin to a newspaper left out in the rain.

And I always get a lake of beans - or at best a pond - no matter what I say. I’ve stopped asking for beans.

All their well-intended bean insistence got me thinking about consent. When we give more than (or different to) what is asked for, who is that really for?

I know how many beans I want. And you likely know what pressure and style you want in your massage. And if you don’t, then it’s my job to help you figure out what your body needs, not to decide what I think is best for you. In my approach, massage therapy is consensual and co-created.