BREAKFAST
The thought of breakfast, especially with the image of coffee, extricates me from bed in the morning. Breakfast makes all things possible and casts the glow of a day that may well bring joy. Though the outcome may be less rosy, breakfast is nevertheless the genetrix of optimism
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I had a ritual of having breakfast in a local diner every Sunday morning. Two eggs over easy, rye toast, potatoes, bacon, coffee, and juice. Heaven on a plate!
One day I would like to solve the mystery of home-made waffles. I am too scared to try making them at home.
My former nextdoor neighbor had me over for dinner once (along with a group of mutual friends) and served breakfast for dinner. She made pancakes with mashed banana and bits of granola. They were the best pancakes I've ever had.
One thing that has never seemed appetizing to me is the "dessert" style breakfasts I see advertised on tv. I would rather have the savory good stuff (like the diner breakfasts I used to eat) than something covered with whipped cream. But that's just me.
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BTW, I took the liberty of forwarding your closing sentences to metaquotes. Hope that's ok.
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My fondest breakfast and tea memories from London are associated with Brown's Hotel in Albemarle Street, where an Anglophile friend and I stayed for a piece back in the 1970s. Couldn't really afford the place then; could never afford it now.
I don't mind being quoted. Though, while I may be old, I am remain rather unwise.
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If you ever visit the north of England, or indeed Scotland, look to roadside cafes and the like. The need to feed large transport drivers reasonably has created a surprisingly adept breakfast industry. And in the case of Glasgow, a male life expectancy which is only marginally longer than that of proposals for state pension age.
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Breakfast and life are one in the same.
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