In the beginning there was french toast. A lovely nine grain from our friendly neighbourhood baker, his fluffiest loaf not spoken for. It was lovely with fresh whipped cream and syrup or even better with ketchup. Some poor suckers just don't get it. Fruit salad rounded out the breakfast. Always drizzled with lemon juice to keep the apples white and and a little zing to all the flavours. You will note the coffee (which was commended). It was made for a guest. The service here is just amazing. Well I am being called to finish bath time. More to write when I get back.
(Note: Three weeks later I have no idea what I was planning to write here. Couldn't be that important. Maybe I had Fermat's last theorem rattling around in my head. Who knows)
No comments:
Post a Comment