Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.


Old news.

Breakfast in bed is a small luxury. The tray, the teapot, cereal with nuts and fruit. William gurgling in the middle, kicking his little legs. And the newspaper.

Oh, yes the newspaper. I had poured the tea (two sugars for me, none for T.), then I peeled the plastic wrap off the newspaper. I stared at it dumbly for a few seconds. It was yesterday's. I don't usually even speak before two or three cups of tea, but I had quite a bit to say.

There is a history to this. Despite 'guaranteed' delivery by 6.30 a.m., the paper is delivered anywhere between 6.45 and 8.30. And sometimes not at all.

Now I can't decide whether getting yesterday's newspaper is worse than not getting one at all. I'm thinking it is.


Anonymous said...

Can I borrow your copy of Colleen McCullough’s last novel?

Todd Vodka

kitchen hand said...

I'm afraid I don't have it, Todd.