It’s mid-yawny-morning.
The doorbell rings.
I’m not expecting anyone or anything but, lo and behold, there is a man at my door bearing gifts (woohoo, I’m all for that!) – a basket of Denny sausages, rashers, ham and 2 still-warm, foil-wrapped breakfast rolls to be precise.
Score!
…or at least it would have been if I was given to eating porky products. As it is, I haven’t done so for a long time and, when baskets of same come my way (this being precisely the first time this has happened), I swiftly pass them on to family members who are only too happy to accept.
I suppose Denny weren’t to know. They were just drawing attention to the results of their “Home Is” campaign, where they surveyed people on their thoughts about what makes a home and, as part of the deal, donated funds to The Simon Communities of Ireland, longtime champions of the homeless in this country. Good on them for that.
The delivery got me thinking, not so much about home, though, as about breakfast rolls.
Beneath that foil exterior lurks a breakfast roll
Whaddya Sayin’?