Untill last year I had no reason to doubt the loyalty of my crockery. I would wake up in the morning and there in the cupboard waiting for me would be a bowl, attentive and ready to receive the weetabix and milk I have made an integral part of my day...
...However, the mysterious ways of the challenge master Garthanial last year, meant that he developed a magical spell that made all the bowls ascend the 3 flights of stairs into his room. There they would culture for days untill being rescued by a desperate breakfast eater, who had become bored of the novelty of eating cereal from a sauce pan...
...And now, my first purchase as a grown up, was a set of crockery (wilkinson crockery, but crockery none the less) which among other components, consisted of two lovely large breakfast bowls. These added to the family of lovely large breakfast bowls created by my house mates...
...But alas, it seems this new family of bowls have a conspiracy against us, for they are not attentive, nor loyal. They are insistant on either hiding dirty in the washing up bowl, or migrating to some crevis in the house that only they know about...
...And so, my hatred of the bowls groweth every morn...
Oh the magical, mysterious ways of:
The Elusive Breakfast Receptacles
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1 comment:
Bran in a jug! Ah, those were good times.
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