For us working stiffs, there is no indulgence more achingly longed for — and, when the time comes, languidly savoured — than the Saturday morning lie-in. Particularly in winter.
Ensconced in fluffy duvets, I open my crusty peepers (woken by natural light — what a luxury!), and then it washes over me: the realisation that I don’t have to get out of bed; that for the next 48 hours (if I’m lucky), my only obligation is to do whatever I bloody well feel like.
Usually, this means staying in bed. Between my laptop, a pile of Donna Hay and Observer magazines, and a good novel, I could quite easily spend the entire weekend in my jammies. (‘You’re going to get bed sores again,’ says the Guinea Pig, bless him.) If you can manipulate your bed mate to make you a cup of tea or coffee every half-hour, more power to you.
Naturally, my thoughts only turn to breakfast at about noon, and so commences the internal struggle: ‘Oooh some lovely buttery eggipeggs would be just the thing now... But oh, its so warm and toasty under the covers — you mean I’d have to get out of bed and get dressed? That’s crazy talk, woman.’
So I procrastinate by pondering all the rude things I’d like to do to eggs for breakfast, until I can’t stand it any more and find myself in the kitchen, clanging pots and pans, looking like an escaped mental patient.
This morning’s brekkie for two was the sum of the following equation:
½ tin lentils (bought by accident, I didn’t look at the label properly and thought they were chickpeas — use ordinary home-cooked lentils by all means)
4 large eggs, beaten until fluffy, with about 2 tbsp water added
2 slices toasted seed bread
1 handful sage leaves fried in butter until crispy (the butter should go brown and nutty)
= Scrambled eggs with lentils and burnt sage butter
Just drain the lentils, add to the eggs and scramble, plonk on buttered toast and top with the sage leaves and a drizzle of the burnt butter. Best eaten in bed.