Breakfast is generally a fairly solemn....erm I mean sullen...affair.
The Boy's always been a grumpy old man first thing in the morning, and the rest of us keep a low profile just in case. The Cat doesn't really wake up until nine o'clock on school days...and at the weekend, will sleep until sunset given half a chance. On the other hand, The Cats Mother is up with the larks and making lists of things to do, folding the washing and harrumphing if we've left anything lying around. As I generally leave a lot lying around, I often start the day with a slap.
In the kitchen, The Cat's Mother reigns supreme. Except where it comes to important things...the gadgets.
The radio has been strategically placed on a high window ledge so she can't reach it and change the station. The Boy and I favour Q Radio or XFM, but she would happily listen to Radio 4 or Magic. They are wholly inappropriate.
There is also a very nice shiny toaster made by that fine British institution, Dualit. If you're not familiar with them, and let's face it if you've not just got married, why would you be? It has a clockwork timer that you turn to toast your bread. It's clearly marked and numbered, with a little notch to let you know the 'optimum' toasting time...it's just beyond the number 2. When the Boy and I use it, we turn the dial to the notch and get perfect toast. Every time. The Cats Mother and The Cat, however, just turn the dial as far as they can. And get burnt toast every time. Sometimes this can be scraped, but is mostly put in the recycling bin. They greet the smoke and smell of burning with the yelps of the utmost surprise. Every time.
This prompts the Boy and I to roar loudly and tell them how to cook the toast. It's easy we say, just turn the dial to 2. You'll get perfect toast we say. Don't turn the dial any further.
They look at us as if we are daft. Don't be ridiculous, we like our toast more toasted than you.
But you always burn it we say incredulously. Very loudly. We may even shout.
We don't know why this upsets you so much they say.
Because it's so bleeding obvious we say.
Yes but why? They say.
Toast is easy to cook. You burn it everytime we say. Steam hissing out of our ears
And so it goes on.
The Boy and I are as one.
The Cat and The Cat's Mother are as one.
I think they do it just to upset us.
I don't think they like toast at all.
