City Stories: Short Fiction

 

 

3: Importance of a Good Breakfast

 

3: Importance of a Good Breakfast

It is good to feel free when you eat breakfast. It is good for the digestion to feel unrestricted. I rarely have time for a good breakfast before work. The stress of employment is a common cause of digestive disorder. On occasions I will book days off in the middle of the week so that I can take the time to really enjoy a good breakfast.

On such mornings I will rise the same time as usual and take my normal train to the city. I will look at all the faces I see every morning whilst inside feeling a great satisfaction- I've always found it important to run ones freedom parallel with the usual subjugations in order to maximize the experience.

After this I will walk for an hour in the busy streets near my offices, watching them slowly empty. The city is particularly beautiful at mid-morning, especially in Spring when the winds drive off the river and turn the tree lined streets into a storm of blossom. In the golden mix of sun and shadow it's easier to gain a vision of the city closer, you may imagine, to the original vision of it's architects, without the interference of people.

Soon after I will find somewhere to eat- usually one of the Pattisserie's on Stellen street, such as La Maison Jaune. The type that makes it's own pastries and the barristers wear white gloves and aprons.

I'll sit at a table in the window and spend considerable time choosing what I would like to eat. I may consume anything from a variety of Greek yogurt, mixed fruit, English muffins, bacon, poached eggs, Spanish ham, salami, French toast, brioche, toast, crepes & pancakes with honey or syrup. I will also have a cappuccino and possibly a Dutch beer.

Whilst eating I will sit and watch the street. It's always of interest to see the types of people who are passing free and uninhibited during the day time hours; usually tourists, students, mothers and nurses with prams. Otherwise  drunks, homeless and bohemian types. In between you will see workers, either rushing late for work or scampering between appointments, usually clutching a half consumed snack in their hand.

To finish I will order an espresso, sometimes another beer or even a schnapps. Then for awhile I will read the paper. However, usually feeling tired after eating, I will rarely get past the headlines. 

'Fresh Bombs Rock Gaza Peace'

  'Floods make thousand Homeless'

'Troops fire on fleeing refugees.'

After this it's usually early afternoon. When I leave I may decide to take a gentle stroll, finding perhaps a quiet square to sit and let the food settle. The rest of the day usually disappearing like a cool breeze