I've been covering for a member of staff for the last couple of weeks while they recover from surgery. It's not overly serious, but I wish them a speedy recovery so that I can put these early starts behind me.
To try to regain some bounce and energy to get me through the rest of the last day of the week, I treated myself to a full English from the new cafe that has opened at work this week. I realised my mistake when the plate turned up. Far from replacing the spring that was missing from my step, the bulging plate more or less me flattened me.
The food was great, nice bangers, well cooked bacon, a fried egg with runny yolk and a couple of slices of toast that you could use as emergency snow shoes. To my credit, I finished the lot*. However, the breakfast has robbed me of my appetite. I had planned to have a tuna nicoise salad this evening, as Z is out partying with the girls, but I can't even face that. I think we'll call it a score draw.
*I've never knowingly been beaten by a fry-up.
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