Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirty-Third

Special K and strawberries.

If films and television have taught me anything, it's that no good can come from riding a bicycle. The same is often true of driving at night in the rain.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirty-Second

Toast with raspberry jam.

Would the last festival-goer please turn out the lights...


Now that the Fringe is over, Edinburgh has taken on a eerie calm. Dog-eared fliers waft along near empty streets; once bustling venues appear deserted; and somewhere a loan juggler valiantly juggles on, no-one quite having the heart to tell him its over.

I'm always amazed by the mass exodus that follows the end of the fringe. The circus really has left town.

Except for the difficulty of walking anywhere at any speed, I shall rather miss it.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirty-First

Toast with raspberry jam, and a nectarine.

I must say, I do make a good shortcrust pastry -- even if I do have to roll it out with a wine bottle. (I really must invest in a rolling pin one of these days.)

I made an entirely sinful quiche/tart this evening; filled with bacon, spinach, Stilton, garlic, pine nuts and lashings of cream. Yum, yum, yum.

Here it is, minus the slice I gobbled for supper:

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirtieth

Waffles, bacon & maple syrup.

I had breakfast with the mothership this morning, and very good it was too. The photo evinces this in two ways: a lovely place mat, and bacon that is not a burnt offering.

I nearly got blown away on the way to her house though. If you ask me, Hurricane Irene got lost and pitched up in Edinburgh. It's miserably, miserably cold and wet and windy here. I don't think I would have left my house at all if it weren't for the promise of waffles, and later Musica' Vestys's wonderful show.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Twenty-Ninth

Part One: Strawberries and blackberrys with vanilla yoghurt; orange juice; and shortbread.

Part Two: French toasts & maple syrup with bacon and a sausage.

Breakfast was something of an all-day affair, and I must confess that the second image is, in fact, of my friend Anna's breakfast (I forgot to photograph mine until it was all gobbled up; and I though an empty plate simply didn't do it justice).

I can highly reccommend long brunches with slightly hung-over friends. The only thing that was missing was The Guardian crossword. Next time!

Breakfast the-Two-Hundred-and-Twenty-Eighth

Special K & strawberries.

This evening, in the course of discussing the cross-over between homo-sapiens and neanderthals, Sarah Palin came up -- obviously -- and I remembered the #Shakespalin hilarity that followed "The Bard of Wasilla's"coinage of "refudiate". I think this one is my favorite: "But soft, what light from yonder window breaks? It is the East, and I can see Russia from my front porch."

Breakfasts Two-Hundred-and-Twenty-Six-and- Seven

No 226: Strawberry yoghur and banana.

No. 227: Cinnamon & raisin bagel with raspberry jam, and a plum.

Are the Edinburgh city councillors on crack? What is the point of a tram line originally intended to go all the way to Leith, stopping at Haymarket? Are they now going to dig up the tracks already laid on Princes Street? Or will they just leave them there as a monument to utterly inept town planning.

How hard is it to write a contract that says "we pay you X, you deliver us Y by [insert date]: if you fail to do so, you give us our money back." I really, really think we should bring back the stocks so that I can pelt whichever plonker is responsible for this debacle with rotten tomatoes. I was so excited about the trams too; how have they made such a mess!?

Breakfasts Two-Hundred-and-Twenty-One-to Five

No 221: Fruit & Fibre.

No 222: Doppelganger shreddies and banana.

No 223: Special K and a nectarine.

No 224: Cinnamon & raisin bagel with peanutbutter, honey and banana.

Festival fun has trumped good blogging intentions lately, as you may have noticed. Since the last post, I have joined the throngs of smart phone owners -- if ever you see me checking Facebook in the pub, though, you must stamp on my foot, and lob said phone out of the closest window.

I will take advantage of it smartness only for the purposes of illicit work-time email checking.  Currently, the only thing preventing me leaving an Iona-shaped hole in the side of the building is the fact that I can read nice emails from my lovely friends at lunch time.

I'm feeling rather too sleepy for warring with photoshop, so you'll have to forgive the string of photos above this post. Also, the beady-eyed among you will have spotted that no 225 is missing. Perhaps I'll have the same thing tomorrow...

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Twentieth

Doppelganger shreddies and banana.

Go and see this. Go and see this. Go and see this: Flynch. Looking. It is perfection. I LOVED it. So much in fact, that I will most definitely be going to see it again.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Nineteenth

Crunchy Nut Cornflakes and banana.

"Gérard Depardieu accused of urinating on a plane": to be fair, this accusation could be levelled at just about everyone who's been on a plane.  I think a better (though I concede less punchy) headline would be "Gérard Depardieu accused of urinating not in the loo on a plane".

My other problem with this headline is my literal minded-ness. I imagine him walking up to a Boeing 747, unzipping, and peeing on the wheel. Or perhaps displaying a prodigious talent for long-range urination and somehow managing to hit a wing.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Eighteenth

Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, strawberries and peach.

This evening was lovely, and I will tell you why in two words: butterscotch sauce.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Seventeenth

Doppelganger shreddies and strawberries.

Dear universe, please could you deliver unto me a modest sum that would allow me to live comfortably for long enough for me to write a book -- which will hopefully become a best seller -- so that I don't have go to work in a windowless office anymore. Especially not when I have a(NOTHER) stinky cold and just want to stay home with a hottie bottie and a BBC costume drama box set.

Breakfasts Number Two-Hundred-and-Fifteen-and Sixteen

No. 215: Cinnamon & raisin bagel with blueberry jam and a peach.

No. 216: French toast with bacon, sausages and maple syrup (and a hot chocolate!).

I've been having a lot of festival fun this weekend. Six of us somehow managed to gain entry to the book festival launch party on one ticket last night. (This is about us rock and roll as I get -- crashing parties mostly attended by the bespectacled -- and middle-aged -- bourgeoisie).

Then today, I saw Shutterland at Zoo (venue no. 124); I cannot recommend it enough -- so, so brilliant.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Fourteenth

Fruit & Fibre and strawberries.

Today at the orthodontist I was issued with elastic bands for my braces. My tootlepegs hurt. But, the elastic band bag has a picture of an otter on it. AN OTTER. Hurrah! I love it. I want this on a T-shirt.

If ever you are in need of cheering, google "otters" and look at the images. Ordinarilly I find cute animal pictures disturbing, but somehow with otters it's ok. They make me want to become the new Gavin Maxwell.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirteenth

Doppelganger shreddies and strawberries.

Those of you who read Miss Ferguson's blog will have already seen this, but I couldn't resist reposting it:

Breakfasts Two-Hundred-and-Six to Two-Hundred-and-Twelve

No. 206: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes.
No. 207: Forgot to photograph this one; I had muesli, followed by martmite on toast. I love the milk jug.
No 208: First breakfast on board - so yummy I almost forgot too photograph this one too.
No 209: Another fry-up, cooked by me, whilst sailing.

No. 210: Another fry-up effort by me, rather easier this time as we were not yet underway.
No 211: Doppelganger Shreddies.
No. 212: Doppelganger Shreddies.
And lastly, me cooking breakfast (not my best photo!)

Golly, it's been a whole week since my last missive.  I've been off sailing with friends. And *hangs head in shame* it's taken me this long to actually connect camera with card reader with computer.

I had a completely fantastic time and am now more sure than ever that I need to become some sort of pirate. Note the appropriateness of the head gear in the last photo (a necessity given this was day 4 sans shower - yum!). Also, my nose is requisitely red -- though in this instance due to over-exposure to the sun/wind, rather than rum.

I'm sure I'll get to be a great rum-drinker though. Or failing that, whisky. Now that I've gotten over my reservations about it's oesophagus-warming properties (it is an odd sensation), I'm rather developing a taste for it...

Breakfasts Two-Hundred-and-Four-and-Five

No. 203: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, Special K and nectarine.

No. 204: Crunchy Nut Cornflakes and banana.

I saw Mr Beebe this morning (Simon Callow to non-Room with a View obsessives). I went sailing past him on my bicycle, resplendent in my luminous orange and yellow vest. I considered ringing my bell at him by way of greeting, and then thought better of it.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Third

Banana and oats & honey crunchy thingy.

I munched this morning's breakfast on the hoof. And jolly tasty it was too. I got braces today (teeth, not trousers) so in 18 months, I shall have a dazzlingly perfect smile. Until that time, I will be mainly eating soft foods. And talking with a lisp.