Zen and the art of Sunday Breakfasts
One should get up at around nine in the morning. Earlier than that, and itsn’t really a Sunday; later than that and you’ve wasted too much of the holiday. Or so I think, anyhow.
Drive out to the nearest bakery and get back a loaf of freshly baked bread – I prefer brown bread myself, brown bread with a sprinkling of fresh herbs. Some eggs, while you’re at it, large and brown.
Get back home and brew some coffee. This has two advantages – one, you’ll soon have a hot cup of coffee in your hands, and more importantly, the heady aroma of coffee will soon permeate every corner of your house.
Right, now that the mug is in your hands, step up to the stage. Heat a skillet, add a dash of oil. Throw in a couple of aforementioned eggs, add a sausage by the side, and throw in some bacon to keep the eggs company. Toast that bread, having kept the butter out earlier.
Bring out two glasses, fill ’em up with chilled orange juice. Keep a box of cereals handy, along with a jug of cold milk. Pot of coffee on the table as well, along with a couple of mugs.
Dish out the eggs, the bacon and the sausages. Salt and pepper shakers on the side, and the Sunday newspapers neatly folded by the side.
Take a deep breath, sit – relax. Finish the last swallow of that first mug of coffee, have a look at the spread. Smile.
Happy Sunday to you too.