There is a time of year in this God forsaken country when all I can think about is food.
All year.
365 days a year.
Before I open my eyes in the morning I think….mmmmn what can I have?
It’s why I get up – to slug coffee down my throat and toy with the possibilities.
1. Cereal – Get Thee Behind Me Satan.
2. Toast – dull. Plus I have gone off it since I found out some of the bread we buy in the supermarkets will last for about 3 years if just left there on the kitchen unit, thanks to the surfeit of E numbers and preservatives that lurk within. No, the only reason I would eat it now is to test my theory that we will glow in the dark if suddenly plunged into darkness again ( I refer to a recent power cut during which we nearly died cannoning round the house crashing into each other, tripping over dogs and trying to find a candle and then a match to illumintate our coal black surroundings – obviously we survived) So anyway, as Spring has sprung and the clocks have changed, I ignored the bread, and moved on to the cooked options.
3. Poached eggs on toast. Oh yeh the damn bread again. Poached eggs without toast? Not an option. Although even if I do say so myself I am a bit of a dab hand on the poached egg front having attended Nick Nairns cookery school with my 78 year old mother.
She is a great cook but the elusive perfect poached egg had escaped her repertoire for all of those decades. So we learnt together but all of that knowledge and wonder is frankly redundant if not perched on a lightly toasted, wholemeal, vaguley homemade bread with good quality butter. Slurp. Same goes with scrambled, boiled and don’t like fried, so no eggs then.
4. Sausages & bacon only as part of the whole and the whole is the above and that’s not happening
5. Fresh fruit- yes Ok a few sunken satsumas, a wrinkly looking apple and a very brown banana.I had replenished the fruit bowl less than 24 hours ago but my son, Teenwolf is aka the Fruit Bat. He scoffs it in such alarming quantities I have considered getting a pipe and firing it directly into his stomach like a Perigord Goose. He says he’ll phone Childline. Fair enough.
So weak with hunger and desperate I lunged into the cupboard.
A yes the big carboard box of porridge oats. Nice. Well nice if you cook it slowly in full fat milk before liberally sprinkling with brown sugar, nuts, some chopped fruit and cream – the equivalent in calories of another bleedin’ Easter Egg.
Bugger it.
I’ll just have the Egg.
The big chocolate Egg.
The one that I had set aside to replace the one I ate yesterday, which made me feel sick. But God it was so worth it. 1 …2…3…….
X
