I’m running out of breakfasts…
Back to work then eh. Good times....sigh.
You think things will have changed when you are off. Maybe there'll be something new going on or maybe there would be exciting news. Would the uniforms be different? Maybe with a jazzy waistcoat and jaunty tie, hmmm. Or even a change to the menu with chicken off and guinea fowl on. That would be nice. Would my waiter chums have exotic stories for me of fantastic guests with crazy ideas about what goes best with seared tuna? That would nice to hear. I would laugh and tut and nod in all the right places if they told me such stories.
But there were no stories of fantastic guests. The menu was the same and the uniform is still dull and drab. My chums were still the same, with their same wee faces and silly laughs, maybe their hair was longer, by about ten days, but everything else was the same.
Nothing ever really changes does it?
Sorry if this is a bit down beat, a bit navel gazey but you see there was more death to be dealt with in this house of pain. And when you combine this death with my recent trip to see the nice doctors in the hospital due to the invisible man with the chainsaw who was trying to gut me it has left me feeling more than a touch disconsolate.
I only had those four fish for about a month and now they are dead. They are food for their remaining friends. They lived a short, snappy, life and it was probably that snappiness that lead to their demise. For you see they managed to get themselves sucked into the air pumpy thing. Stupid fish. Oh that's probably a bit harsh, a bit soon. I'm not ready to joke about it.
These fish were a mistake it has to be said. I wanted fish as I have always found them calming and a sweet way to relax after work. 'I'll sit in the dark and look at the calm, trippy fish as the swish swish their way round my big bowl', was my justification for buying them. I had fish before and always found them really quite a tremendous post work tranquillizer. But these fish were not relaxing, they were quite the opposite really as they darted more than amble, or whatever the fish equivalent of ambling is. Honestly they were so fast and spasmodic and mental in their movements that you could set them to some mid 90's happy hardcore complet with glow stick and whistle and you wouldn't look ridiculous. It's not want you want at the end of the night.
I noticed they were gone as I chomped my way through my soggy, shops own, crunchy nut cornflakes. Let me tell you that was a mistake, shops own? Wood chips and coke would have been nicer. So as it was I depressed. A bad breakfast saddens me more than almost any other bad meal. I assumed they were hiding at first round the far side of the bowl, maybe planning a breakout or something. But on closer inspection there they were, dead, snagged in a place that they didn't want to be. Poor sods.
They had their last breakfast, went for a swim and took a wrong turn and died.
I then began to think about my life or rather my death. My mind was wandering. And I came up with a calculation that sort of terrified me.
If I live to seventy, no guarantee there, and am now 37 then I have had most of my breakfasts. My breakfasts are numbered, I have fewer breakfasts left than The Cousin. So I have decided that I shall not be putting up with bad breakfasts any more. I've bought sausages and eggs for tomorrows breakfast. Up with soggy cornflakes I shall not put.
It's what the fishes would have wanted.
Have a good weekend.
I make a lovely breakfast burrito, complete with eggs, sausages, sour cream, salsa, and potatoes.
Ole’!!
I’ll be round in the morning then….tea, decaf preferably…thanks…
eggs and bacon mmmmm thats what i’m gonna cook up for tomorrow! excellent idea *pah* on the high fibre cereal..you’re right its what the fish would have wanted.
i respect their memory by eating slaughtered pig….good times
i used to have fish. i learned it was all over once they started swimming sideways. at least they went out at the peak of health, didn’t have to deal with increasing decrepitness, losing mental faculty and all that… and yes, dear. life is too short to waste on soggy cornflakes. a lesson i need to remember…
fish….they die so young…sniff sniff
I’m a bit confused about your blog, that is to say, I’m not sure if I like it or not! So I’ll continue to check it out until I figure it out… God bless!
what can I say?! Dig through the archives….either way I’ll always be here..wondering if you came back…
Live until you’re 75, then you’ve got more than half your breakfasts ahead of you. Problem solved.
(as mentioned on the Drudge Report)
probably not possible given all the sausage abuse and complete dedication to all things fatty and wrong…
buh bye fishies. hello bacon and eggs!
life eh….swings and roundabouts..
Manuel, unfortunately changing the breakfast to an Ulster Fry also changes the equation due to the shorter life expectancy associated with it. Someone your age eating a fry every morning is more like 2/3 through. Using your logic the next progression would be to have a deep fried Mars bar every morn which would see you peg out in about 15 years.
Try zero fat yoghurt and add sunflower seeds and cranberries. You’ll become visibly younger by the day. One fry at the weekend.
read my lips…
you’ll never take my sausages away, you’ll have to prize them from my cold dead (39 year old) hands…
Dead fish eh? We’ve had at least 10 in the past 12 months, so I feel your pain. Turns out the place we have been buying them are well known for selling disease ridden fish that peg out after a month or two. Try explaining that to a 5 and 3 year old!
Still, next time we lose one I’m going to follow up with a good full welsh breakfast and tell the mrs that Manuel said it is ok
you know it makes sense….what makes up a Welsh breakfast eh? I like a bit of variety…
Mmmm I love eggs in the morning, with their runny thick centre coating my teeth.
Sorry about the poor fish. At least you didn’t kill them, as I often did when I tried to have them and could never figure out the proper chemical balance or how to keep the ick out.
oh the ick….I have lost many fish to the ick…
Not so much post-work tranquillizer and post-work liquidizer, huh? My condolances, have a couple of extra rashers, some hash-browns and some hunks of black pudding on me.
mmmmmpudding….I could go some black goodness right now
Cook the fatty stuff on a George Foreman Fat Reducing Grilling Machine and PRESTO! As for the fish well, having had fish for a while myself (a tropical and cold water, Hello Titch!) I know that starting off a tank is pretty delicate, I’ll write something up and e-mither it to you but not tonight it’s pub night
GFG? In my house? No no no….that’s my fat and I want it…heh
Why don’t you just have two breakfasts per day? It’ll double your remaining breakfasts & effectively be the same as being reborn.
bite me…arf
Awwww, sorry to hear of your loss. Our fish are off to the Fish Hotel while we swan off to the US of A for a month. If they die while we’re on holiday, how will I deal with the guilt?
I expect I’ll have another huge Cape Cod ice cream and wish them well on their way to Fish Valhalla.
fish hotel? what is this place? do they take borders heh?
i agree, sugar! life is too damn short for any bad meals! they MUST be avoided. here’s to lovely and delicious breakfasts and smiles across the table! xoxoxoxo
p.s. sorry about the fish.
I hardly got time to know them…