Tag Archives: chocolate

Breakfast In Love

The first in a while. I appreciate feedback!

Breakfast In Love

Sipping a small cup of coffee (small thank you)
,little espresso chocolate crumbs cleared away under his spot,
the spot where his second cup goes, the one that will give him
a tummy ache, the king of motherfuck picks up snotty-rags,
listens to some accordion music, some melancholy piano,
a bicycle gearbox ratcheting. He thinks about love.
He thinks about the kitchen table. He thinks to himself,

you are a little prince.
You are a small man,
but you are in love.”

He finishes his coffee. He eats a chocolate.
He cleans the kitchen table. He feels bigger.



Well, at last I have something interesting to write about.

This past Saturday was another school day trip, this time to Stonehenge and Salisbury. The school-sponsored trips have started to become a bit of a disappointment, unfortunately–one or two hours somewhere else, a few hours somewhere less satisfying. That’s how it was with Stonehenge. I was circling the monument, watching the crows land on all the big, roped-off rocks, dodging people with cameras,

wondering why we couldn’t have a little while longer here. Wondering why, for example, the school couldn’t have paid for us to use one of those neat audio tours that looks like a cell phone and tells you all about the place you’re visiting.

I stepped in on a couple guided tours. The guides were fascinating. The place was beautiful. It was proper English weather the whole time: windy, chilly, with a bit of mist, but not enough to freeze your bones like in New Hampshire. Everything was a muted shade of green, grey, blue or brown–exactly the kind of ominous atmosphere you want when visiting a paleolithic (or is it neolithic?) monument with the kind of presence that Stonehenge has.

Salisbury was, luckily, not such a disappointment. The town itself is old, and it rambles. There is a huge Gothic (I think) cathedral there, even more impressive than the Bath Abbey–great flying arches, giant stained-glass windows and the like. Tucked away in a little corner, they kept one of the original four copies of the Magna Carta; that was something to see.

Down a narrow and creepy alleyway, we also found an open-air market, with stands selling most everything: clothes, shoes, used books, fruit and veg


coats, and best of all army surplus.

You might ask why “army surplus” should be best of all. Well, it’s because I finally found myself a pair of boots. Having already made the decision to get rid of my horrible desert boots (the things cut me up something awful), the extraordinarily nice couple in fatigues and green coats sold me on a pair of black boots, having held their own feet out to demonstrate that the boots I wore were their boot of choice.

I later discovered my new boots are called German paratrooper boots. Huge, heavy, and black. I could stand in them all day without feeling it.

Sunday was my day to go back to Camden Market. To be more specific, my roommate and I walked down to the 99p store, because I had seen something resembling Nutella, except half again as much product for only half the price.

The place is a feast of cheap stuff. Dollar stores, the college student’s dream shop!  The two huge rolls of digestive biscuits I got there did not disappoint. Neither will, I hope, the cans of ravioli.

But when I got home with my new jar of  discount “chocolate hazelnut spread” a quick tasting showed that it was nothing like the sweet, chocolatey ambrosia man has named “Nutella”. It was more like…

How shall I describe it…

Lard frosting. That’s it. Evidently, %0.5 hazelnut is enough to call something “chocolate hazelnut spread”.

The rest of the week has been relatively uneventful; I’ve been working on various papers and reading things. Yesterday I got free ticket to go see “As You Like It” at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre tonight. It was a happy coincidence, as just that day I had bought a groundling ticket for “Love’s Labours Lost” the very next night. More on those in a couple days!


My walking speed is inversely proportional to the volume of tea I am carrying.

I might have begun this chapter last week, but this seemed a more appropriate time. I went out–really went out, to where the party was–two nights ago, and I spent most of yesterday in my room recovering. I realized that I’m developing a routine. Three packets of sugar in my tea. Three pounds per meal on my dining card. Three shirts per laundry load. Go into the hallway when wireless reception drops. Stall on homework by reading comics. Stall on blogging by eating chocolate. Stall on sleep by blogging and playing with Photoshop. Pinch pennies. Save up for trips. Read in the bathroom. Open the windows at night. Every habit, whether brought from home or newly formed, is a way to feel like I have a starting point.

I even like my bed now that we have all those extra comforters. My roommate and I are slowly rebuilding our immune systems’ strength–at different rates, but it’s happening. He had to sleep on an iron mattress much longer than I did.

And good god, I almost forgot. Lord help me, I spent three-hundred and fifteen pounds yesterday. One-ninety on the awesome pony trekking trip in November, and another one-twenty five on the weekend trip to Edinburgh. It’s okay, though. I’ve come to accept the parting of money (no heart attacks here–you can’t take it with you). And the budget still stands. Besides how can I put a price on riding for two whole days in the beautiful Welsh countryside of my ancestors?

Some of my readers have expressed an interest in my studies. Well: in Writers In Exile, we read Joyce, and now we’re reading horny old D. H. Lawrence. In Art History, I fall frequently fall asleep and my professor calls me out on it. In Roman Britain, I sometimes fall asleep and mostly take notes about the Romans’ conquest of Britannia. In Drawing class, I sketch big round scribbly sketches of statues in museums. And in Writing Fiction, I read and write. A lot. Lots of notes in the journal, every day, lots of procrastination on the actual assignments, lots of reading on how to go about it when I do write.


Most study abroad students are off to Leeds Castle and Canterbury today, to look at the castle, hang out and watch some dudes joust. I am on my bed looking up Irish members of the CouchSurfing network.

Time to make a cup of tea, sit down at my desk, and get to the work of writing!