Amy Chubb: Why I love food more than people

I write this column from the comfort of my glorious memory-foam bed, on a slightly grim Tuesday night. I have half a bottle of wine in one hand, a handful of chocolate in the other, and my flatmate/questionable ‘significant other’ Fiona is snuggled up next to me. Could I be happier? Doubt it.

St. Andrews is, in my mind, infamous for being one of the only places in the world where literally the best/only thing to do is eat and drink. If my family come to visit, I take them to The Adamson. If I’ve had a few drinks in the Union, I hit up Courtyard. And if I’m just bored out of my mind then I have no problem grabbing a don’t-mess-with-me-size Starbucks coffee. But recently – and maybe it’s the onslaught of deadlines, or the depressingly cold and dark 5pm retreats to my bed – I would much rather crawl under the covers and lovingly embrace my one true love of Merlot than any human being in Fife. It’s not that I’m unhealthy: I love going for daily runs and eighty percent of the time I’m on those salads like green is going out of fashion. But sometimes the drone of “oooh have you found your prince yet?” gets rather boring. It’s got to the point where my answer can simply and happily be “yes, his name is Domino’s, and I love him more than anything I’ve ever loved before.”

I’m sure all of us, guys and girls alike, can admit that sometimes comfort eating seems the answer to all of our problems. If I’m honest with you…it probably isn’t. But on occasion it just seems necessary to stuff your face and not even feel guilty about it, particularly now that we’re in the period where you can chuck on a woolly jumper and no one would know the difference.

If I ever go anywhere in this town I am caught between a goddess in yoga pants and a grinning schoolchild chomping on a sausage roll that I could happily rip out of their hands with food envy. I’m continually struggling between the overwhelming desire to jog away all worries and concerns, and the need to cradle a loving bar of Galaxy and probably achieve the same thing in less than ten minutes. Generally, I do a bit of both. But with these November nights drawing in, I have realised more and more the most important lesson I will learn whilst at University: PIZZA WILL ALWAYS BE THERE FOR YOU.