There are times in very person's life when you realise the words coming out of your mouth or the thoughts in your head confirm you have become your mother. I call those times breakfast. My poor mother would argue with me every single day about the importance of breakfast. She would beg me to eat and I would refuse. The stupidity of it all. Breakfast is part of the natural order. If I skip it now I am not a person you would like to know by 10am (many people would say I am not a person you would like with or without food at any time of the day or night. To them I say "talk to my dogs. They will vouch for my awesome character"). But nature is full of examples of the importance of breaking the fast no matter what. This morning I was at South Bank sat breakfast time. The birds were in a feeding frenzy. One bird, I presume it was some type of quail, was clearly not too sure about the large human type with the camera close by (fair call too, given how delicious I find quail). It looked at me. It looked at some delicious morsel dropped by another human. It repeated it and them decided food outweighed fear. I get that. I really do. It was breakfast time after all.
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