202. Toast

I can, very easily, eat toast for my breakfast seven days a week. But that's not what surprises me. The surprise is that I don't get bored.

Why is that? Is it because I can have a different spread on my toast every day? Or is it just that two pieces of wholemeal toast, with butter and marmalade/Marmite/peanut butter/blackcurrant jam, is, in fact, the perfect food?

Sometimes, as I make my way to work, I contemplate having a different breakfast. I could stop and buy a croissant. I could have a bacon or sausage sandwich at work, or scrambled eggs, or cereal. I could have fruit salad. But I never want those things. I think about two pieces of toast and I know it will make me happy, and keep me filled up til lunchtime.

And then there's the power of toast at other times of day. What about baked beans on toast when it's late and there's nothing else to eat? What about toast with a bowl of soup when it's cold? What about toast when you can't face real food, and just need something in your tummy? It's medicine. It's therapy. And it's just hot bread.