By: Blonde Two
There are some things that should definitely happen on a Sunday morning …
I couldn’t possibly list them all, but coffee, a delicious breakfast and some time outside all come pretty near the top of my list.
Yesterday Mr Blonde Two and I woke up knowing that we had a day’s work ahead of us on the latest Blonde publication. We are planning to launch ‘The Non-Story of Ignatius Bowerman’ (quite a mouthful I know but all will be revealed) at the end of July. As yet ‘Iggie’ is only a book in electronic format and needs to get off to the printers (always a scary moment) pretty damn sharpish.
Copyright Steve Cobbin cobbart.co.uk
So we decided to combine all three of the above Sunday necessities and cook breakfast on the beach. Mr B2 took charge (he usually does with breakfast these days) and as I showered he packed a mysterious bag of brunch/cooking/drinking type goodies.
Upon our departure for the beach, he declared the proposed meal to be, ‘A high risk breakfast.’ High risk maybe but the result was delicious and enormously good fun.
Coffee was brewed via the Brukit jet boiler and a cafetiere. Mushrooms were sizzled, bacon (would have been fried if it contained less water) and … cue ‘high risk’ moment … scrambled eggs were gently persuaded into their edible form.
I have to say (and this comes from a camp breakfast chef) Mr B2 did an amazing job. The result was a sandwich packed with breakfasts goodies but with absolutely no sand.
Should we be calling that a ‘wich?
Yum! So glad i taught Mr B2 how to scramble eggs! Love, B2’s GM
So am I!!
The only sort of cooking I enjoy – but tomorrow the tide is low at 3 p.m., so perhaps it will have to be afternoon tea. . . . .
P.S. I excelled myself today – up at 4.30 a.m. for a bird survey because the met office switched the sun on early.
The met office can be very organised when they choose 🙂
Blondes Both. Our paths appear to have diverged – you to confabulations with the DofE, me to contemplation of my epiglottis. No more discussions about convincing dialogue and mutual teasing about gerunds. And this is as it should be and is why Henry IV parts 1 and 2 are perhaps the best of all WS’s plays. In the first Hal and Falstaff enjoy guarded fun, in the second the Prince, having assumed more weighty responsibilities, must needs move on.
As Hal says, “I know thee not old man, how ill white hairs become a fool and jester.” I am delighted about Iggy and wish you well.
Mine was the divisive step. Writing is permanent and can be shared; singing (unless recorded and I’m nowhere near doing that) remains a private activity in the transparency of Blogland. Progress is measured in half-notes hit and nothing could be more internal. I am toying with learning a song that will remind me of earlier times; something outdoorsy. I almost settled on “Blow, blow thou winter wind.” (more WS) until I reminded myself of the third line which would be a shocking misinterpretation of my state of mind. By hard work, application and enthusiasm you have progressed and that’s to be applauded.
Perhaps instead Schubert’s Abschied, assuming it’s within my range:
Kommt an manchen grünen Ort;
Muß zurücke ganz allein,
Lebet wohl! es muß so sein.
Pleased to announce Robbie that I managed to translate the middle of that ‘ganz allein’! You should definitely sing it.
If you had strained your ears across to Colwall a couple of weekends ago, you might have heard campfire harmonies into the night; I hope you would have joined in.
As it happens, both Blondes are reasonably adept at singing, we have been in a choir together 🙂