Breakfast With(out) Donald


Scrambled Eggs

It’s that Saturday morning thing – catching up on neglected household chores,the dirty washing piling up and festering away in the laundry basket , that broken light bulb I’ve been meaning to change for weeks – the plates in the sink that I couldn’t be bothered to wash last night and the kitchen floor could do with a good mopping it looks more like pavement than a floor

Breakfast first, life begins with breakfast – yes, a good breakfast – no matter what happens today, no matter how bad this day can be – at least if I’ve had a decent breakfast … like the mantra of the condemned man about to walk out on to the scaffold – at least I won’t die on an empty stomach.

This is France so, Fresh croissants, delicious baguette, a good strong coffee – Don’t kid yourself, the baguette is rock hard, and I’ve run out of coffee, so I’ll just microwave the ominous brown dregs lurking at the bottom of the cafetière. Eggs, I’ll make scrambled eggs! I think there’s still a a couple of eggs sitting in a box at the back of the fridge, where they have been for weeks on end and are well past their «use by date» and so I can’t use them and were I a condemned man, I’d just give this breakfast a miss hoping that there might be something better for lunch. Microwaved coffee, hard bread and I begin to write a shopping list.

No point listening to the radio, I don’t fancy breakfast with Donald. Yeah, even three days after the event,  it’s just all non-stop post mortem on the US election results. Experts and more experts until there are no more experts left, all giving the same expert analysis that … they got it wrong and now no one knows what the Donald is going to happen.

To be continued (perhaps)