He'd quietly disappear for 5 or 10 minutes at mid-morning, then reappear with two plates of the most perfectly constructed cheese sandwiches. Just the most basic and unfussy cheese sandwich. Everything about it was perfect and each one seemed like a gift.
Dad seemed to treat the sandwich simply as fuel, and would have it polished off in about three mouthfuls.
I'll have to get him around here for a morning of DIY.
For display purposes, only. This sandiwch bears no resemblence to the sandwich described above.