I have never been one for eating breakfast (unless of course it’s at 4am and I don’t know what my name is). The reason is simply because I have always had trouble waking up in the morning. Since my very first schooldays, even though my mother tried her hardest to get me out of bed at least ten minutes before having to leave for school she quickly learned to not even bother making me food.
This will take three days to come out
Of course my metabolism was slower than the signing in of a much needed stimulus bill but when you have yet to hit puberty it doesn’t really matter.
Until very recently, I have kept up the tradition and have sustained myself by eating late at night and eating snacks an hour or two before lunch. This is mainly because as I get older the lack of food in the morning has become affecting my mood and weight, and theres nothing worse than me having a fat day AND feeling sorry for myself. And while I have become hungrier in the mornings there are still some days when eating before noon just makes me feel ill.
Which is where we start. Picture it, a Saturday morning, waking up bright and early at 9:30am and getting ready to meet a realtor to look at some houses. I wasn’t in the mood to eat, anytime before noon on weekends may as well be before sunrise.
But seeing as we were meeting at a breakfast restaurant we went a little early so my wife could get something to eat. Now if there’s one thing I dislike more than the concept of breakfast, it’s restaurants that specialise in serving breakfast.
Overcooked eggs, hollandaise sauce without enough vinegar or lemon juice and warm orange juice made from concentrate the previous morning. And I can’t leave out the lack of fiber – there is nothing like starting your day by clogging your bowels.
And while the food tastes mass-prepared with no love put into it at all, it’s really people that get to me.
Inevitably there are three groups of people:
- New couples so in love that they can’t even wait to wake up and show the rest of the world how in love they are.
- Cyclists. I don’t need to explain how fifty year old men in sweaty Lycra puts me off food.
- Loners taking up eight seater tables reading the same newspaper over and over again sipping on their bottomless [chicory]coffee.
There is light at the end of the tunnel. Sunday was one of the best mornings and meals. My wonderful wife went to get breakfast, this time a little later in the morning, and brought it home to bed where we sat in comfort watching DIY shows.
Breakfast, bed and TV; that I can live with.