This was my breakfast the other day, which looked so nice I thought I would share it with you before it got gobbled up into my huge ravenous maw.
It is slow-scrambled Cornish eggs, on buttered ciabatta and topped with fresh-ground black pepper, smoked sea salt, and fresh chives from my newly-installed herb garden. I do not know too much about gardening yet, so I probably should have tested these for poison before eating them, but luckily they were more or less non-toxic. And the scrambled eggs were delicious!
The whole to be washed down with a draught of rich, nutty, fresh-ground Colombian Supremo coffee. This is one of my favourite types of coffee, even if I am only a Cornish supremo and hence technically not entitled to it. Fortunately some inspectors have not come round yet to check my supremo eligibility.
It’s time to grow up and admit I have a problem. I may be clinically addicted to hash browns. Not anything drug related. Those frozen potato things.
Just as heroin addiction is treated with methadone, you need to control the problem by weaning the addict onto a less harmful substitute. That’s why I’ve volunteered for a hash brown dependency programme. With the help of my doctor, I’ll be gradually transitioning to a carefully monitored regime of prescription latkes.
It is my birthday today so I am having a special execkutive breakfast eg bacon, scrambled eggs and salsiccia piccante from the Italian shop and washing it all down with delicious espresso coffee, also from the Italian shop!
For my birthday I would like to go to Spacefest which looks wizzo as it has astronauts, writers, and astronomers especially Carolyn Porco who I think is hott, except it is in America so I cannot go :(
Never mind as I am going out for a big curry tonight to celebrate being officially half dead, if you believe the Bible, which I do not, and you can all come! It is in Kentish Town, or if you type it on my phone, it says ‘Lentish Town’, which is better.
So last night I went out for birthday drinkies with Lisa, and we went to Quinns which is a giant beer museum where they have every type of beer! Except they questioned my demand for a pint of Leffe, as apparently in that area they are wusses and drink halves in girls’ glasses, with a little umbrella. I had not realised it but up here in Finchley we are rock, and drink pints.
Although as it was £5 a pint I will not be able to afford to do that too often. Bloody Southerners.
Then we went to Bintang which is a tiny Malaysian restaurant where the food is all delicious and cooked with lots of chilli and lemon grass and coconut ekcetera, I was not actually hungry due to nuts, but I managed to cram down half a garlic and chilli chicken, half a plate of fried squid with dips, and some prawn crackers. It is the best food ever, except for my cooking obviously. I was taking surreptitious notes so as to reproduce the menu at home (“Tamarind, you say? Hmmm, very intresting. *scribble*”).
I may have accidentally put back on some of that weight I lost, so I better bikle into work shortly and burn calories!