I've never been much of one for breakfast. I preach it, sure. Do I practice it, not so much. I do make sure my kid eats it though. And I can see the time coming when he questions why I ain't shoving weetabix down my own throat with the enthusiasm with which he does. On weekends though I do eat breakfast. In fact I try and make us sit down for a proper one. But honestly, it's so we sit and eat together rather than any love for food at that time of morning.
Over the past week however I seem to have fallen into a pattern. I drop him off at Montessori (his weetabix downed in about 4 minutes!) and then proceed to eat breakfast at a cafe/ restaurant. Its my exhale moment. I catch up with email and blogs and lists of things to be done. But mainly I gaze and nibble at a plate of something. Then I am off to a half day of exploration/ chores before its time to collect him. Maybe this is the new me?
Today I'm on Killeney Road, ostensibly to stock up on groceries and pop to the post office. I've detoured to Freshly Baked by Le Bijoux. It's the tiniest of cafes at the very beginning of a row of shophouses (buildings with shops below the houses of people who own/ work in them). The divine smell of freshly baked goods, vanilla cinnamon and bread wafts all the way into the sultry Singapore air.
I've chosen to sit facing the pavement, at a table so that I can people and baked goods watch. Continuing with the homesickness theme I've gone for scrambled eggs and sausages with toast and marmalade. A meal I would never have voluntarily eaten in London. What distance will do to one eh?
Anyway, have a good day lovely people. I've bought croissants for lunch (too hot by then for cooked meals) and banana bread for tea time. It's going to be a good day. I can feel it in my sun warmed bones.