Breaking the fast comunally
Listen to the word: Breakfast. Split the word into syllables. Break-fast. Now apply context. You’re out of bed, and hungry, The first meal of your day. As a complication, go out (far from the comfort an familiarity of your own kitchen. I don’t care. Restaurant. Community centre.
To be fair, the second location is a rare choice. Once or twice a year, tops. And I didn’t exactly wait to get there for a balanced meal (that would be yogurt and granola). But with the edge off my hunger, I saddled up and joined the queue, this morning. Two kinds of eggs. Sausages. Beans. Fruit salad. Coffee on tap. All that my tummy could desire, in the absence of bacon.
Remember, community. Sitting down with folks that I hadn’t seen (in some cases) since this time last season. And after the plates were empty, the conversation turned to important stuff. Like where to get a concertina constructed or repaired. Or the relative benefits of owning a tuba or a hurdy gurdy. (As if…)
But, we did stay until the room was almost empty, and I picked up a few ideas for what to do when I’m retired and rich (As if…) Consider this as an alternate chapter in my personal fan fiction. And maybe, just maybe, if I ask Santa early enough, I could take delivery of a 6-valve horn. Dream big, boyo.
We’re still getting the details in place, for an eventual road test. I don’t want to go into the public arena of the campground until I master a few more details. How to create hot water before going for personal cleanliness, as an example.
