Last breakfast

After 12 cooked breakfasts in a row we both struggled to fake a smile on our last morning. These guest houses are so determined to push a fry-up on you that it's difficult to refuse and if you do they look insulted and you worry what they'll leave in your tea. I compromised with a rather sad looking anaemic plate of scrambled eggs. K had cereal and toast and a mountain of butter. The table next to us had two perfect families of 2.4 children shovelling bacon and eggs into their mouths.