capital of.......

I seem to live off these little itty bitty bites these days and so therefore am an expert of sorts. Well, as expert as anyone branded an expert usually is.
Should we shun or embrace what my workmates and I describe as 'can-naps'? Some people say they are the devil's work, made by below-minimum-wage earning eastern Europeans in warehouses in East Anglia.
I don't know about devil's work. But I do know my devil's horseback from my devilled crab and quite frankly as I sit here in the office this afternoon I could happily munch on either.
The process of eating canapes whilst juggling a glass of warm chardonnay/indefinable fizz/chi chi cocktail and making polite chit chat is also an art which I feel needs to be explored more, as is the knack of attracting the attention of a tray-bearing waiter and the most polite way to dispose of canapes that look fabulous but taste foul.
Shallow? Inconsequential? Guilty on both counts, but let's face it, not all of us are destined to split the atom.
So I shall shamelessly continue my hunt for the perfect nibble in the name of Capital of Culture.
Capital of Canape...eat your heart out. As long as it's on a crostini of course.