Breakfast time is the only time of day that I usually get to sit down by myself (being closely watched by Bok and Freddie, of course), to contemplate life's foibles.
As I am up each day much earlier than anyone else I have the kitchen to myself. I eat what I want, drink what I want, and think what I want. At breakfast I answer to no-one.
Yesterday morning, for example, I cleared-up some Cat sick by the bathroom door (very unusual for Freddie), over-cooked two boiled eggs (I mistakenly timed them for hard boiled!), and sorted out most of the world's problems.
At about 7 am, the sun was already up, the birds were singing, and the animals were pestering me for their morning bowls of milk. From the kitchen table I look out through the open glass doors onto perfectly tranquil countryside, I can see four horses, about a dozen Blonde d'Aquitaine cows, and several varieties of medium sized birds (Doves, Magpies, Blackbirds, Starlings, Buzzards, etc). It's the epitome of peace and calm, and it suits my character perfectly.
Whilst tucking in to my unpleasantly over-boiled eggs I made a radical decision, I decided that I shall no longer fret about politics, or political posturing. I shall pull down the blinkers, bury my head in the sand, and say as many Hail Mary's as I can muster. I might even carry a Rabbit's foot.
After the recent bun fight between Santa Claus and the Wicked Witch of the West, I shall in future only mention such things in passing, in a throw-away, nonchalant, sort of fashion (such as here).
And..... the next time I have boiled eggs for my breakfast, I shall time them for FOUR AND A QUARTER MINUTES. I was distracted by all the Mrs May hullabaloo; honestly!.
My political stance exactly. The eggcup is sweet.ReplyDelete
The egg cup came from the 'troc' at Condat. I've been trying to find more similar old ones, but as yet no luck.Delete
I am not alone at breakfast. My porridge varies in consistency as I prepare it by eye not measure. Peter yaps and reads the day before's newspaper out loud. I like to be quiet so breakfast is me saying "I don't want to know" and him alternating between newspaper and complaining that the porridge is wrong and he doesn't want it. He carries on with the conversation with whatever cat is sitting with him when he gets no response from me.ReplyDelete
It all sounds very Bloomsbury-ish. I imagine that Strachey and Carrington had similar breakfasts.Delete
I'm just off to the airport; I'm late, as usual!
I think you're right, bury our heads in the sand is all we can do now politics wise. By the way, I was fascinated by your link to Tom Stephenson's blog today, about Michael Gove...only to find that it's disappeared, what happened to that then? It sounded like something I would agree with but obviously somebody else doesn't!ReplyDelete
Yes, I was looking forward to reading that myself. Maybe he'll do a more calm version.Delete
Eating and drinking is far better than thinking about the state of the nation !!! ..... and, as much as I like a runny yolk, a hard boiled egg is still tasty ... I'd rather that than a snotty white !!! XXXXReplyDelete
No snotty eggs for me either. My dear late mother used to crack an egg into a glass, and 'drink' it. YUK!Delete
We have the same salt! I only have the one though.ReplyDelete
They are English. I've had them for years, and use them daily.Delete
Politic schmolitix..... the U.K. has been run by Whitehall and the Masons for the last 300 years plus.... they just pick up their older set of instruments and play a slightly different tune when the parties change.ReplyDelete
(My grandfather was a top mason... 'tis from his lips I quote)
Something needs to change, but goodness knows what!Delete
I agree about politics! We had the MOST embarrassing moment yesterday when we turned up at the Mairie's to vote, and were (of course) turned away. I can't think what I was thinking of: we are only entitled to vote in European and local elections...I just got a bit excited having both the UK and French elections to ponder over. Never thought to re-read the voting card to remind us of what we can and cannot do. Sheesh, the Maire will chuckle on that for weeks. I've given up on politics now.ReplyDelete
I think it all went well; Macron has his support.Delete
I steer away from commenting on the state of world affairs as I prefer to maintain as tranquil a state of being as I can, which leaves me with enough emotional energy to deal with the immediate demands of the day without getting too stewed up with things. But I do send out my thoughts and prayers and hope that humanity does find a more peaceful solution to all that ails it, which I think is a better way.ReplyDelete
This shall be my attitude from now on; as long as I can keep control of myself.Delete
My philosophy precisely.ReplyDelete
Why stress in your rural idyll? Just don't do what Jack@ did in your garden and use weed-killer to get rid of the greenfly. That is a mini equivalent of nuking a small city - overkill...ReplyDelete
I've actually recently been pondering the use of gelignite to rid myself of certain effing weeds. I may now reconsider.Delete
Last year, for the first time in over 40 years, I did not vote for our president. I still feel a bit lazy about that, but less and less. Instead, we focus on what we can change (and enjoy) right here, right now, on our little farm and allow our grown children to rant and rave about politics. They do it so well. I wonder who trained them?ReplyDelete
There's plenty of others to do the ranting; I'll leave it to them from now on.Delete
Even your beautiful hard boiled eggs look lovely.ReplyDelete
That is when I slice them and eat on buttered toast or mashed with some mustard and spices for egg salad.
cheers, parsnip and thehamish
Had I thought about it, that's what I should have done too!Delete
I adore my lone breakfast time! Sat at the kitchen table in silenceReplyDelete
Not always in silence here John; sometimes accompanied by snoring from above!Delete
What is that ghastly Vegemite substitute I see in the background. You can buy Vegemite more cheaply in Europe than we can buy it here in its home, Melbourne, Australia. Maybe your son has developed a taste for it.ReplyDelete
Sounds like a Good Policy to me Cro. I think your squeezy Marmite is a bit radical. I tried it once and only once. Squeezy being the operative word. I'm not a creature of habit really but for the last 61 years I've had toast with Marmite and peanut butter (generally on seapate pieces). I do sometimes stray, of course, but I always return.ReplyDelete