My mum hated making my sandwiches for school. Actually, she loathed making my sandwiches for school. There was the daily grumbling, the sudden groan as she remembered that she still had to make them, and there was eye rolling and vigorous slamming of cupboard doors.
She once made a huge batch of cheese sandwiches and froze them. Every day she'd break off a round of sandwiches and ungraciously pack them into my lunchbox. (They tasted horrid.)
Mum got frustrated at my unwavering request for mature cheddar cheese sandwiches. She'd try to ring the changes with ham (yuck), with egg (oh dear god do you actually hate me?), Marmite (yawn) and, occasionally, cheese mixed with HP sauce (Mum, it's mature cheddar cheese on white, why is that so difficult?)