The breakfast king

Another journey. Well, it's a constant journey really. But I mean one in the physical sense of the word - I have just come back from a weekend in London.

As vibrant as the city is with all the things buzzing on around you, and all the things to see and do, one of the highlights this time round was quite simply the hotel. When I backpack, all I need is a clean room and bathroom and not much else. Simple. Basics. When I stay in a city, I do like a nice hotel, a hotel you are prepared to pay good money for. I like design and I appreciate features and fittings,  furniture and fluffy white white towels, lemon-scented mini-showergels and crisp white sheets and duvey on the big-ass bed. The nespresso coffee machine and the Ipod docking station and speakers become good buddies in such a short time.

But most of all I like breakfasts. Infact I love breakfast, I am passionate about breakfast. I am in love at first sight with my first meal of the day. Apart from the good company, the breakfast is always such an amazing thing to wake to.

Every working day I get up at least 15 minutes earlier than I need to so that I can indulge in a hearty breakfast. When I saw that breakfast was served until midday on a weekend in London, knowing I can lay-in before eating until my heart is content brings out the cheshire cat in me. Sweet music to my ears, or maybe my stomach. Even before the sharp shot of Italian espresso has sparked life in to me, the sight of the breakfast buffet bars (yes, bars...as in plural... :-p) beat the finest blend to it. I was alive.

Being seated at the table lasted all of a few seconds to order coffee and juice with the waitress before scooting off to the hot plates and the bacon bar. Rashers galore. Scrambled eggs, hash browns filled the rest of the plate. At the end of the row of food sat the delectable giant's causeway-like pile of waffles, with a lighthouse white ceramic jug full of maple syrup to wash over them. My second journey back to this bar was loaded in to my day's priorities upon seeing them.

On days like this the bacon and his friends plate I loaded seemed to barely touch the sides. And the waffles and syrup only just skimmed it. So on to the pastries. I circled around the island bar hovering like a seagull over a trawler's fishing nets with it's tasty butter croissants, homing on on a new entry in the pastry chart - cranberry twirls. Another pitstop there was called for afterwards.

Then back to the main island bar to finish off with some fruit and the most succulent pineapple. A yoghurt with freshly blender-whirled raspberries. Then the cherry on the cake - an Italian espresso. It reigns king in it's kingdom of breakfastland. 'A breakfast, a breakfast, my kingdom for a breakfast!'. It leads every other food I have eaten in to the day, it is the war cry of taking on the day. Ok, that sounds a bit dramatic (apart from on some work days), it's not the case here. It was a pleasure, it was all a pleasure here.

Getting off to a good start is important and we need the fuel to keep us going through the days. I love how such a simple daily thing can inspire me, enough for me to write a simple post about it here and waffle on about it. Waffle, did I say waffle? Mmmm...

Noooooooo...I just remembered the salmon....damn, I forgot the salmon...it would have gone well with the scrambled eggs, how did I manage to miss that?