Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirty-Fifth

Special K & rasberries.

I wish I hadn't allowed myself to be sucked into Atonement. It's so heart-breakingly sad, and yet I can't seem to look away. It doesn't help that the soundtrack is so good. Damn you Dario Marianelli.

Breakfast the Two-Hundred-and-Thirty-Fourth

Vanilla yoghurt with blueberries and raspberries.

If you're in need of cheering, I can emphatically recommend going to bed with wet hair. I woke up looking gloriously leonine this morning. Until supper time, it was the high point of the day. And that's quite something for me -- I seldom start the day on a good note. It's the trauma of being torn prematurely from the feathery embrace of my bed. Oh to never set an alarm again...

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...