sunday breakfast

We often have a cooked breakfast on a winter Sunday - although we usually do so much food that we lie groaning on the sofa for the afternoon, and just have some scones or something for supper.

We fancied something more substantial than usual today, but we were more restrained - four eggs scrambled with a little cream and some chopped chives from the garden, four rashers of locally “grown” bacon, and three bagels between us.  I had HP Sauce too - obviously.  Just enough, and leaving room for roast chickie! tonight.

We ate it while watching Turn Left, this week’s Doctor Who episode, which I thought was exceeding good.  And now I’m working, which isn’t, given it’s Sunday afternoon.  Ho hum.

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Being tired and hungry, we thought we’d have some porridge this morning, so I found the box with the oats in, and bunged the requisite amounts of them, the milk and the water into a bowl, and placed it in the microwave.

And only then noticed that the bag said “best before April 03″. How bad could it be, I thought? When they were cooked, they didn’t smell very appetising, to be honest; so Pete had a rummage in the cupboard where we keep such things, and emerged triumphantly waving another bag of porridge oats.

“Best before 2000″, it said.

So we’re still hungry.

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