The author reflects on Yorkshire tea, toast and jam, and tinkly Chopin in the bath
Wake-up time? I’ll lie in until 10am, when I’m woken by the sunlight coming through my slightly ill-fitting yet beautiful designer blinds. Then I’ll sit in my favourite seat and sip Yorkshire tea while I slowly come to.
Sunday breakfast? Just toast with salted butter and jam. Occasionally, my son, who’s 22, will ring and suggest meeting at the greasy spoon. He’ll have the mega-breakfast, which he wants me to pay for obviously. I’ll have poached eggs on toast while I listen to his nonsense.
