Historical and emotional significance aside, the fact that packed lunches are a daily routine for much of the British working population makes office canteens ideal locations for examining the current social and culinary landscape. Enter the pantry at 1.30 and your nose will be assaulted by a cacophony of smells emanating from the microwaves: last night's sausages and mash, soups of varying colours, dollops of shepherd's pie and questionable variations of curries and stews. Not forgetting, of course, the leagues of sandwich eaters - unwrapping parcels of baps, pittas and sliced white at their desks. By looking at peoples' choices it is possible to identify key trends shaping modern diets, as well as examining the cultural and social traditions that have influenced their food.

As with every meal, what someone chooses to pack for lunch is hugely indicative of their personality and their relationship with food. The excessively organised (exquisitely presented foods, carefully portioned and planned with Koolpak), the bulk-cookers or leftover-lovers (usually chilli with rice, or indistinguishable dishes that always seem to include peas), the undomesticated 20-somethings (piles of cold spaghetti with pesto,brought in a supermarket carrier bag) and those who forget or have no time to prepare, and so shop over lunch and perch on the crumb-laden worktops, attempting to "build" their meals: cranking open tins of tuna, and spooning out sad dollops of cottage cheese.

Thank you @ikeauk for making the most perfect lunch boxes for #aldesko days! #joyofstorage… https://t.co/1JWIWW54fI pic.twitter.com/Pes5yjoyEM

— Chloe (@chloelikes2talk) July 12, 2016

Many diners opt for the same food every day, choosing the comfort and security of routine over the challenge of coming up with new ideas. In a recent survey, 77% of participants admitted to eating the same lunch for the last nine months, with 58% saying they'd been doing it for as long as they could remember. (Unsurprisingly, ham sandwiches were the most common culprit.) Some of us may wring our hands in exasperation at the thought of such monotony, but for many, repetition just works. My cousin has eaten a bagel with Dairylea cheese every day for 15 years, and insists he is neither bored, nor dissatisfied. Habits are cemented over a lifetime that can be hard to shift: after all, we like what we know. Furthermore, not having to decide what to eat removes one more decision from our choice-saturated and time-restricted lives. Even though participants in the survey admitted to being bored with the meal, 7 out of 10 said they opted for repetition to save time.

As such, an increasing number of people are opting to buy food daily, rather than bringing it with them. Not, as with our Victorian predecessors, due to a lack of resources, space or access to food,  but rather a lack of interest or time. And given the fact that there are probably more branches of Pret A Manger per square mile of London than public toilets or post boxes, it is understandable that, rather than opting for a cheese and pickle roll every day, you would rather spend £3, £4 or £5 buying a hot pulled pork bap, an elegant box of sushi or a steaming pot of soup. In this context, choice can be exciting, and we revel in the opportunity to buy whatever we fancy, without feeling restricted by our culinary skill, our families or the content of the fridge.

AAA = @abokadouk & @attendantcafe addiction. Send help (no wait, send more!) #aldesko http://t.co/gVnIqtUQ8F pic.twitter.com/1f971RmIwT

— GastroGays (@GastroGays) September 11, 2015

Even so, only a few people can keep up the pace of picking new foodstuffs to try every lunchtime. Work in one place for long enough and you'll have tried everything available in the local area - you'll know what your favourites are. Afraid of disappointment, you start picking what you know - buying the same sandwich every day rather than making it, feeling secure in the knowledge that it will be tasty (or, at least, familiarly bland) and will satisfy.

This search for familiarity is particularly evident in the staggering number of people who opt for supermarket ready meals every day. For every person reheating a home made curry, there are at least four more warming a ready-portioned fish, cottage or shepherd's pie; British classics, with reliable, dependable flavours. Despite the boom of juices, sandwich thins and salad jars, it would appear that a desire to follow the trend only goes so far where lunch is concerned. You could argue that this habit once again highlights the fact that many of us do not consider the packed lunch as a meal with the same value as others (no need for extra effort or imagination), or, alternatively, that we rely on it so highly to provide us with the comfort to see us through to the end of the day that we cannot bear to try anything new, for fear of disappointment.

The environment in which the packed lunch is consumed also influences attitudes towards it. Is it eaten alone, or in company? In the canteen, on a park bench, or at your keyboard? Eating together can make it an enjoyable, sociable occasion, lending the packed lunch a positive connotation of friends, conversation and free time. If eaten in isolation, it can feel the pinnacle of loneliness; a sad meal, a pitying distraction from the grind of the working day. Surrounded by groups of chatting colleagues, nibbling a salad alone at a canteen table can be depressing enough to avoid it altogether, and stick to "al desko", where, with focus dominated by the work at hand, you may barely notice your packed lunch at all. It becomes a meaningless ritual, a necessary habit.

LUNCH CHALLENGE: Whose lunch is more boring than mine? #aldesko pic.twitter.com/HRO2fB6WiU

— WeAreBne / James (@WeAreBrisbane) July 29, 2015

So what does this teach us about the packed lunch? It is a meal of contradictions: both an expression of independence and a search for childhood comforts, to keep you feeling safe and coddled until it's time to go home. It may be seen as a opportunity to showcase one's culinary skill, or to avoid it at all costs. For some, it represents the opportunity to escape work and focus on the real world, either alone or in company. For others, it is simply a ritual that must be dispensed with in order to continue with the day. If eating is considered primarily a social occasion, this meal specifically designed for one may be seen as automatically inferior to all others, especially when it is so heavily associated with the world of work. Alternatively, a sense of childhood glee can remain, with this mono-portioned feast seeming like nothing short of a present.

As with any meal, with each bite we are interacting with our cultural and social history, although, in Britain, this is perhaps rarely at the forefront of our minds as we bite into our favourite sandwich. What is clear is that we should not regard the packed lunch as a mere pit-stop in between two meals with greater nutritional and social importance: its unique position as a meal prepared ahead of time, portioned solely for one, arguably provides greater insight than all other meals into the way we and our society feel about food. I truly believe that it is worth our attention.