Comfort Food

Grim Days.

I have been recovering from illness; nothing spectacular but enough to take the wind out of my sails. At the same time, I have had to be strong and supportive for others. Yesterday it all just hit me, made worse by the fact that I was having problems with a work project which were beyond my control.

I don't do beyond my control very well.

I was tired, headachey, my insides were knotted and I also had the small matter of a ton and a half of logs to shift before the rain fell; it was one of those times when you find yourself standing there looking for a wall to bang your head against. My comfy bed seemed very inviting; the thought of being in it and fucking to a standstill even more so.

Of course, I ended up in the kitchen.

I sat at the table with two boiled eggs from village hens and my own bread - sliced, toasted and cut into soldiers for dunking into perfectly timed runny-but-not-too-runny golden yolk.

A boy inside me smiled.