When I think of breakfast, I conjure up images of a hot cup of coffee, complete with artistically swirled foam, serenely sipped by the open window, early in the morning when the air is still cool and the house still quiet. Then there might be eggs frying, and maybe pancakes, fresh bread toasting, and definitely something containing blueberries to go with the pancakes.
But somehow not all days (if any) start like that, usually.
Today I was woken up by a certain little someone frantically ringing a bell next to my ear, saying breakfast was ready. (After waking me up several times in the preceding early hours of the morning, requesting I get up to tie his shoe laces. Which I refused.)
I was quite chuffed to have breakfast prepared by the men, even though I found it didn’t contain coffee (yet). Or cups. Or cutlery.
Of course, the usual breakfast is more about avoiding casually flicked spoonfuls of porridge, and negotiating the removal of toy racing cars from the dining table, and only very rarely about pancakes and blueberries.
But at least today, there was nowhere we had to be, and there was time to start the day slowly, and with coffee (minus artistic foam), easing our way into the day, into August, and into the returning summer weather.
* This year, I am joining Susannah again for the August break.
A photo a day, a few words, or maybe none.