…out from bed, pull on jeans and a sweater over sleepy skin, slip into clogs, unlock the garage, push up the door, lift out the bike and spin round to the corner shop, buy a big, fat, Saturday newspaper, a fresh loaf, cycle home (steering one-handed), park the bike, pull the garage door shut, lock it, go straight to the kitchen, put the News, Travel, Review, Business, and Magazine to one side of the table, open the back door to let sunlight and fresh air in, fill the kettle, lean over the sink to switch the radio to BBC6 Music, drop the teabag in MY blue & white hooped mug, hack three doorsteps off this crusty loaf, (the oval crispy end and two immense slices), pick at pieces of the egg-glazed, ridged, crust that shower off the knife’s serrated blade, lift the lid from the heavy, hand-made butter dish, peel off curling leaves as big as breaking waves from the milk-yellow block, struggle getting butter off the knife onto the bread, reach for the new marmalade jar from the inside top of the fridge door, twist off the lid, smile at “ppphuttt” of air as the seal breaks first time in my manly grasp, move to the kettle that just clicked, fill the mug, cut into the smooth, untrammelled marmalade skin, dig out pieces of sugared peel and orange jelly, add it to lumps of butter on the wedges of bread, bin the teabag, top off the mug with full fat milk, lob the teaspoon into the sink, pull the kitchen stool underneath by rear with my left foot, perch, unfold the Sports section and take as big a bite of that oven-fresh, warm white bread, butter and marmalade as I can stretch my mouth to take, while I study the football fixtures to see who plays who this afternoon, read the match previews, glance at the clock with half an eye…
Saturday 18th April, 2020
n.b. We would have been playing at Southend United today under different circumstances.
n.n.b. www.napowrimo.net Day 18 Prompt: Celebration of life’s small pleasures…breakfast on a match day.