Breakfast the Forty-Third

Muesli with blueberries and banana and yoghurt.

Miss Ferguson, of Fife, who was staying last night, was all for a bit of photographic variety -- hence the above. I am half-dressed and half pyjama-clad because I couldn't find my bra (I do own more than one; but the laundry is piling up rather). I found it after breakfast, as I suspected I would: hunger renders me rather too hysterical for simple tasks like actually seeing the thing I am looking for when it is right under my nose. It took me a long time to learn this about myself. Time was, there would have been tears over the elusive over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. (Boulder is of course something of a misnomer in my case, but I digress.)

In other news, it turns out that I had a setting on this blog that meant only registered users, or some such, could comment. I have remedied this. You may now, if so inclined, post as much invective as you like to the comments section, completely anonymously. Happy maligning all.