The Holy Mayonnaise
Our work truck is not always the tidiest of places; there's usually the wrapper of a Ripple discarded on the floor, or those annoying flaky bits of pastry from a sausage roll lurking somewhere. But the glove box is always immaculate. This is because it is home of the Holy Mayonnaise Jar. Mayonnaise is a God send. It is my favourite work colleague and has to come everywhere with us. You never know when you might be needing the Mayonnaise, but you know you will at some point everyday. (Please can I note that the Mayonnaise must be Hellmann's, and not Heinz. Never Heinz. It doesn't do it for me.)
A sandwich is incomplete without Mayonnaise. It is the sausage roll's best friend.
Mayonnaise gets me through the day. In fact, Mayonnaise gets me through life. Look at every family photograph we have taken at a meal time when we are all seated round the table together; the Mayonnaise Jar will always take centre stage right in the middle of the table. It is so sacred that it has to have pride of place in the immaculate glove box.
Nothing else gets this honour.