Some people wake up perky. I do not but I did give birth to one of those and to this day it remains a mystery how someone as in love with the morning, could have been created without my knowledge. It set me thinking that if ever there was a system that needed a bit of revision, it’s the growth of baby within the womb. Here’s the mother providing all the necessitites of life and the baby is just sitting back sucking a thumb and doing a somersault now and then. You would think that in all these thousands and thousands of generations of human gestation there’d be some way that the mother could have foreknowledge that every morning at 6am this child was going to be gooing and gaahing and wanting fed. Particularly as prior to his arrival both his brother and the mother from whence they both came, were still sound asleep at that ungodly hour. These ‘babies’ are now over forty so it’s fair to say things have changed since then and I, as a woman who can rise whenever she feels like it, have gone back to my old ways. Today was a mistake. I got up far too early and I know this because I took the pot out of the cupboard for the boiled eggs and the handle on the lid fell off. Ahoh, I thought, hunger pushing me to continue. I add water and salt in the headless pot, put toast into the toaster. Water boils, timing begins. Toast pops up – too pale, pushed back down. Timing of eggs going well, think I’ll look at that pot lid….toast pops up -smell of burnt toast wafting through the kitchen. Rush to put it down the garbage gobbler, but odour still persists. By this time I think it must’ve been three minutes for the eggs. 2nd piece of toast is down and I’m fishing the eggs out of the pot. Toast pops up, pale but I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll eat bread if that’s what it takes to avoid the noxious smell that’s attaching itself to everything within range. I take the toast over to the bench and start buttering, knocking the egg out of the egg cup and miracle of miracles…catch it half way down to the floor. That’s when I know the curse of early rising has been lifted. Sure, the egg is now a bit less egg shaped but it has a runny middle and the soggy toast is ok, so I open all doors and windows and get the removal-of-bad-smells remedy into the egg pot. Mixed spice, nutmeg, cinnamon, bring to a boil. I relax. But it was too soon. The cinnamon came out of the container in a great whoosh and deposited more of itself on the cook top than in the pot. And when I went for a shower, I noticed I’d dribbled egg yolk down the front of my clean nightie. I’ve not done much since then but I have to say I’m not looking forward to lunch.

Tomorrows option … without toast

2 thoughts on “Eggactly

  1. Love your writing Robyn. These blogs would make a great foundation for a new novel….or a TV show –
    shades of ‘One Foot in the Grave’


  2. Thank you! Bear in mind a blog is 45min of ‘fluff’ of the top of an overcluttered mind. Can’t imagine anyone wanting to read what really goes on in there!


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