jonathan.beckett@gmail.com

Chocolate Fudge Cake

I'm not entirely sure why I dragged myself out of a very comfortable hotel bed at some unearthly hour this morning in order to make it to breakfast on the stroke of 7am. I will admit to being somewhat deflated after yesterday's idiocy when I discovered four people already sitting in the restaurant. I had quite gotten used to having the place to myself.

Today the breakfast bar offered exactly the same options as yesterday – only slightly less well cooked, and luke warm instead of piping hot. Who knew that luke warm bacon would be so chewy? Also – where does the term “luke warm” come from? Was there some chap called Luke that had extra warm hands once upon a time?

This is where some Bible basher appears out of nowhere and lectures me about Luke, while conventiently ignoring all the far more interesting books that were thrown out of the Bible because they didn't fit the story they wanted to tell. Yes, yes, I know – I'm going off on one. I'll stop now before the three people that read my idiocy fold their arms, huff spectacularly, and walk off.

The book of Enoch (one of the apocrypha) talks about fallen angels procreating with humans, if you're interested – it's far more interesting than the rest of the old testament – that largely concerns itself with whoever begat so-and-so, that begat whatshisname, and stories of sixty thousand piece brass bands breaking noise pollution laws.

Oh dear.

Today was a good day though. I got lots done. People smiled and said thankyou as I left the office late this evening – and that's all I can say about that.

After getting back to the hotel this evening I changed clothes, and headed straight back out for something to eat. Another pizza at the restaurant around the corner. I don't think I'll be able to face pizza for quite some time – it was good though. I sat in the corner of the restaurant and watched the world going by – wondering where people were coming from – where they were going – if somebody was waiting for them, or if they were excited to meet up with anybody.

I wasn't going to buy a pudding, but then a very pretty waitress delivered a desert menu to my table, and smiled at me. I reflexively smiled back, and then ordered chocolate fudge cake. Nothing says “all my teeth are going to fall out, I'm going to have spots tomorrow, and my trousers won't do up in the morning” like chocolate fudge cake. It was SO good though. And WORK PAID FOR IT!

Rest assured – I'm now sitting back in the hotel, feeling disgusted with myself.