|Just add smell of chlorine|
In recent months, in an attempt to undo the, er, professional excesses of this "career", I've been doing a lot more exercise, as has Mrs L. She's taken to yoga like a duck to the proverbial, and that even includes a painfully early Thursday session at 7am. So, most weeks - all but one, in fact - I drag myself off to the gym at a time when sensible people are just contemplating coffee.
This morning I managed a pretty decent work out and a quick swim and, while easing up and down the pool, my thoughts turned to breakfast... and then, pretty rapidly, to Sunday mornings as a kid, when we'd go for a splash around at Staines swimming pool and then, with wet hair (because, yes, I had some in those days) and smelling of chlorine, we'd be allowed a grated cheese crusty roll. And once that idea is planted, even some four decades on, well, there was only one breakfast choice today.
In an ideal world it would have been accompanied with a packet of those really thin, ready salted, stick-cut crisps - can anyone remember what they were called and who made them? - but, regardless, this has left me beaming like an idiot. Simple pleasures and good memories. You really can't beat that combination.