Monday, 29 May 2017

I swear...

As we all know, a fairy tale always has an ending, and the husband and I checked out of our castle yesterday morning.

I'll be honest with you. I'm not sure that my waistline would have coped with another moment at Thornbury Castle. Ten minutes before our final breakfast there, the husband and I both swore to each other that a) he wasn't going to have a fry up, and b) I was just having fruit.  It's just as well we didn't swear on anything sacred because half an hour later, that would have all disappeared in a puff of smoke (unlike my waistline which may need a little more time and effort).  I had ordered the homemade waffle and maple syrup with a sausage chaser the day before, and had never tasted anything like it in my life.  As we all know, anything which tastes that good is either going to increase your size, kill you or give you diabetes.  Or all three if you're really unlucky.

I started well.  Scooping a couple of spoonfuls of fresh fruit cocktail into a bowl, I piously placed it on the table and began to eat it.  Then the toast rack arrived.  The husband, who went AWOL while I was eating my melon and strawberries arrived back at the table with a  couple of croissants, some cheese and salami.  'This is all I'm having', he said, swiftly followed by, 'Oooh, toast'.

He was buttering the first slice of toast, and then gave me that doe-eyed look with his lower lip stuck out.  'I haven't got any marmalade', he whispered pathetically.  Because I love him, I went up to the cold buffet table and brought him some back.  Standing by our table like the Grim Reaper was the waitress with a note pad, her pen poised ready to sign our death sentence.

'Would you like any hot food?'  I heard her ask.  As I sat down, the husband took a deep breath and said, 'Scrambled egg and smoked salmon please'.  He had the decency to decline the freshly baked brioche which was also on offer, and then she looked at me. 'And for you madam?'  I looked at the husband who shrugged his shoulders.  'Waffles, maple syrup and bacon please'.  

So the two of us sat at the table like a couple of middle aged piggies at the trough, and decided that we'd eaten enough at breakfast to keep us going till Monday at least.

Unfortunately, in the husband's case, he lasted till lunchtime, when son number two proffered a bacon sandwich.

Lightweight (or not as it happens)...

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