We plan, we toil, we suffer – in the hope of what? A camel load of idols' eyes? The title deeds of Radio City? The empire of Asia? A trip to the moon? No, no, no, no. Simply to wake up just in time to smell coffee and bacon and eggs.
- J. B. Priestley
Why wake up late, when you can get up early - when the sexiest meal of the day is breakfast? In the week days I am so used to waking up early that during weekends, I find myself wide awake no later than 8:30am - Today at nine o'clock I dipped my toes in the local swimming pool with the water still and unrippled, followed by a quick shower, breakfast (of scrambled eggs and assam tea) and a stroll around the empty streets, walking among quiet passages and snow flurries. I tasted idleness at its best, before the city awakes with its quickened breaths and fury and pallor.
- Slow baby slow, because you can afford to, because you have a whole afternoon and night to look forward to.
//Top five places in London for breakfast/brunch:
- Lantana - scrambled eggs (I heart eggs) with sourdough bread, accompanied by the Observer
- Local greasy spoon - full English breakfast (fried bread, roasted tomato drowned in a sea of baked beans, mug-full of tea)
- The Little Bread Pedlar - stack of toasts and French butter, black Monmouth coffee (bring your own grapefruit)
- Bistrotheque - fluffy pancakes with blueberry compote and crème fraîche
- The Delaunay - freshly squeezed juice, eating muesli with a silver spoon - and less busy than its sister restaurant near the Ritz
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