I love breakfast. Sometimes when I’m bored, I fantasize about checking in to a fancy hotel, slip under the duvet, order room service and watch TV all night. And in the morning, have breakfast for like three hours. (The fantasy is mostly about the breakfast, actually, but the other stuff is nice too.)
The only bad thing about breakfast is that it’s a morning thing and in the mornings, I want to kill myself. It’s true, every time the alarm goes off at 5:45 I fight a battle about whether I should a) get up and go to work or b) suffocate under a pillow. In this state, breakfast is not all that great. It’s just something you do so that other people will want to be around you, like brushing your teeth and putting on deodorant.
This is why I love the weekend. In the weekend you can sleep in and still have time to enjoy breakfast. A few weeks ago, I celebrated this fantastic weekend-thing by making scones with lemon curd and clotted cream. It was a very good morning.