Last night we had Love Chunks' Melbourne boss, Roger, over for dinner and to stay the night before he left for a thrilling 4WD ride to Woomera to look at some new weather measuring equipment from Japan. LC was relieved that it wasn't him who had to make the journey, preferring instead to stay in his study at home, in the warm, computer chugging away and dog sleeping cosily in her beanbag at his feet.
After a huge meal of roast chicken, tiramisu and some delectable cabernets, we were all bleary eyed and ready for bed. "What do you have for breakfast, Roger?" I asked, playing the role of dutiful wife and soliticitous hostess.
"Ah, well, just a stockman's breakfast really."
LC and I looked at each other with blank expressions. Like we do most of the time, actually.
He laughed, "Oh, a stockman's breakfast is nice and simple. You have a smoke, a piss and a quick look around."
And I think that's exactly what he did this morning before he left! I was out for a run with the dog and LC was having a more substantial breakfast of tea and toast. Sapphire soon woke up to her bowl of 'rabbit droppings' (as we all call them), or 'Nestle's cocoa puffs' as they're more commonly known.
My breakfast - a Working Mum's Breakfast - was a stray slice of cheese left over from making Sapphire's school sandwich, an orange cut into six segments crammed unbecomingly into the mouth whilst leaning over the sink to catch any juicy spurts and a meusli bar shoved into my pocket as I headed out the door. A few minutes later as I sat on the bus on the way to uni, I wondered about what other 'breakfasts' there are.....
The Newlyweds' Breakfast - (After a long Sunday morning lie in) - Percolated coffee in matching mugs, warmed croissants with gourmet jam, fresh exotic fruits. Usually eaten outside on the decking/balcony/garden bench with the newspaper divided up into the relevant sections and time out for a few kisses when trading the sections with each other. Time taken - 2 hours plus
The New Parents' Breakfast - (rubbing eyes) - "Whaaaa--? I'll feed the baby right here and can you just shove something in my free hand over here? Yeah yeah, that's fine, whatever - I can suck the condensed milk out of the tube hands-free. Hey, see that bowl of olives on the coffee table - can you push those over as well....?"
The Established Parents' Breakfast - (or maybe I'll be honest and call it MillyMoo's Breakfast) - "Wah heeey - there's some leftover cherry cheesecake, yesss! That'll go down nicely with a cup of coffee (with skim milk and sweetener mind you: gotta keep that weight under control)..... Wonder if I've got time for a second piece before the others wake up? Nah - I'll just take this easter egg and smack it on my desk for morning tea later on today."
My Boss's Breakfast - 11:30am, sharing a taxi back to the office - Holds up a clear plastic bag with what looks like gum tree bark and mushrooms in it: "Hey MillyMoo, want some of this?" "Err what exactly is it, Queen B?" "It's pumpernickel and cheese - it's supposed to be my breakfast." Nodding politely, I'm still cheeky enough to say, "Well good for you B, but I'd rather suck a bird turd - you go and enjoy it without me."
My Mum's Breakfast - A cup of tea so weak that she freaks out if her hotwater so much as looks at a teabag. This is followed by a bowl of her homemade muesli which has enough dried fruit and nuts in it to keep her chewing for most of the morning. To make it completely unpalatable, the top of this squirrels' wet dream-of-a-banquet-in-a-bowl is covered in bee pollen granules. They look like yummy yellow cake sprinkles but taste like, well, what they are: bee vomit. She swears that taking them has eliminated her hayfever and I don't doubt it. Besides, she deserves to get rid of it just for being brave enough to eat those noxious little pellets.
The Morning After Breakfast - Coke, non diet. Also known as "The Black Aspro." Lean forward so that the tiny fizz comes out of the top of the glass and pings against your nose. See: you can feel something, you are still alive. Pizza, always served cold. Microwaving it changes its dynamic and the smell will make your puke pipe want to work its magic. Stick to cold - the congealed grease will seal off your stomach and keep everything down. Now, shuffle over to the kettle and make a coffee with at least three teaspoons full.... gently now!
The 8 Hour Drive to Melbourne Breakfast - (Shielding our eyes from the rising sun as it catches every speck of dirt on the windscreen): "We're at Tailem Bend now. Time for a wee and some breakfast." Several minutes later, Sapphire and Love Chunks come back to the car with an identical trucker's feed: flavoured milk (chocolate for her, coffee for him) and two large sausage rolls with sauce. This gives me a second or two to feel mature and superior: "For goodness' sake, that's a terrible breakfast. Those sticks of bum fat are like Dr Who's tardis - they produce more crumbs of flaky pastry than were stuck to the sausage in the first place!" Then it is their turn to mock: "Oh, and a chocolate hedgehog slice and King-sized Kit-Kat washed down with nearly a litre of iced coffee gets the tick of approval from the Australian Heart Foundation, does it?"
The Dog's Breakfast - One weetbix, finely crushed, topped with a generous slop of skimmed milk. It is enthusiastically lapped up in less time than it takes for me to step back through the door, her tail wagging madly all the while.
And lastly, My Dream Breakfast (available only in MillyMoo Land) - Before Jude Law the masseur comes to gently wake me from my slumber, the help has left a silver dish filled with a dozen dark chocolate lindt balls, pesky foil wrapping already removed. Each one is sucked slowly, giving me that essential energy boost needed to leave my boudoir. In the kitchen, Love Chunks has prepared a platter of tropical fruits drowned in cupfuls of passionfruit pulp and hands me a cup of his freshly-brewed coffee.
'The Age' Sunday edition is laid out on the table, ready for me to decide which section to read first. Love Chunks joins me at the table in time for John Cusack to serve us our grilled bacon, scrambled eggs, tomatoes and wholewheat toast. My attention is slightly diverted by the sight of him rubbing down the kitchen counters....... Topher Grace clears the plates away in time for Hayden Christiansen to present us with ricotta hotcakes drowned in maple syrup and generously sprinkled with assorted berries. Now full and content, there comes a tap on the french doors overlooking the infinity pool.
George Clooney is there, tennis racquet in hand. "I'll just get dressed and I'll be right out, George!" I give Love Chunks a lingering kiss goodbye and watch his departing back as he walks out to the helipad on his way to his office in Port Douglas. It's great that he earns half-a-million bucks per hour but still makes sure he has time to have breakfast with me.....