At some point in life, one will be faced with a perplexing and equally inexplicably recurring suggestion: to have a glass of tepid water with freshly squeezed lemon upon waking up in the morning. I am one that rather likes lemons, despite their association with illness and sickness of stomach, for my mum used to make me suck on a lemon when I was not well as a child and their intrinsic partnership with vomit has not quite left me. Yet, they are lovely and spell summer and gaiety all around. Bar freshly squeezed in a glass of tepid water, that is. Even typing it makes me feel queasy and I can assure you it has nothing to do with unwelcome childhood memories. I cannot think of anything more unpleasant to start one's day with. Or perhaps I can, a cold shower. Or in fact any kind of shower, that's why I prefer to shower before I go to bed in the evening. But I digress. Back to the squeezed lemon now, sort of. My idea of starting the day in the best possible manner is this:
A hot cup of thick cocoa with a drop of coffee added for good measure and so we have a proper mocha. This wakes me up like not even a fire alarm can because it actually sets me off in a lovely good mood. This morning, working from home due to my back, I managed plenty of productive phone calls on the spur of this liquid velvet. It's a bit of a shame that the adorable heart-shaped cup (new, from Paperchase of all places) has a smaller capacity than my average tea cup. I suppose that it's so terribly girly and fabulous and mahaaavellus dahaaalin' that I will excuse its dinkiness and will just have to make enough for seconds tomorrow.
I resolved mid-afternoon that only a classic cup of tea accompanied by a hot-cross bun would rescue me from attention-deficit. I know that it's no way near Easter but it is Mardi Gras tomorrow, or Pancake Day, and Easter comes early this year, so I may as well have an early treat. The fact is, I just love hot-cross buns, especially these ones that come from Marks and Spencer. And wanna know the best thing of all? This one I actually froze last year, fearing that I would have to wait for many months before I could taste the beautiful spiciness again. Yet, I realised just before Christmas, as I was perusing shelves, that they are actually sold all year round which annoyed me slightly. I felt far less forward-thinking for having frozen a couple of packs and also thought that they are not half as desirable any more (but are still as good).
