He's trying to kill me...

Yep, Gordon wants to send me to the cardiac ward (my poor Dad had his first heart attack at 47, but he smoked, unlike me!) Just look at the "Full English" Gordie-boy fried me up this morning. I am dubious about a Full English containing sautéed yellow peppers, but we can just call that the Canadian variation. And I gave up kippers as a teenager, so no fish here. No blood (black) pudding either. It's just not my thing, though I did watch my friend Phyllis shudder over it when we visited England and Scotland together back in 2007. Or was that me?

And yes, I admit, there is a dearth of baked beans. And really, the lack of potatoes is a complete and utter offense to my Irish heritage. What can I say, I'm married to a bloody Scot!

Local eggs (from the hens that belong to my beekeeping mentor and his partner), local sausage, not-local bacon, God-knows-where-the-mushrooms-and-peppers-came-from, bread from Quebec, and a tomato that survived the late blight in my garden (which fortunately did not afflict my gorgeous potatoes!)

But wait. Something is missing...

Ah, that's better. Brown sauce. I am still ticked that they switched HP Sauce from glass to plastic bottles. I hate plastic packaging.

And I have to have scrambled eggs because I can't stand runny egg yolks. And grapefruit juice, mmmmm.

All heart attack jokes aside, it was really yummy. I need to go do some farm chores to work it off. Thank you, my sweetie-muffin-dumpling. Can I have another cuppa now?

And I'm sorry, but this is JUST WRONG.