decide who makes coffee and who goes to get the newspapers.
make coffee as r eventually gives up trying to persuade me that it's my turn to go. have a conversation about how we should really get the weekend papers delivered. we've been having this conversation for approximately 5 years.
the order in which sunday newspapers are read:
first, the glossy food supplement. dismiss the endless cake recipes and drool over the parisian salad of artichoke and soft-boiled eggs.
second, the magazine. usually from back to front. skim the restaurant reviews, then the recipes. not interested in cous cous, thanks. skip the 'how to get a killer body' bit (it will run every week from now till the end of august should i suddenly get interested in some personal trainer's wisdom, which is unlikely), get to fashion and wonder if too old for 1. jumpsuits 2. harem pants. conclude that i can wear what i like, within reason.
read the book reviews, making mental notes about which books i should buy. remember i'm running out of space and should therefore only be buying stuff for the e-reader. not sure e-book publishers will see a book about melancholy particularly profitable.
read the main bit of the paper. we'll all be dead of swine flu. so much for my pork obsession. you live by the pig, you die by the pig. unfortunately, so much for a dive holiday in the sea of cortez as well. shame. just saying the words sea of cortez makes the whole thing sound impossibly romantic. few other places elicit the same mix of wonderlust, beauty and adventure. sumatra is one. i can trace that particular one to a book we read at school, a particularly gruesome account of the muddy and cold eastern front in WW1, and the protagonist soldier who dreams of sumatran dawns the colour of blushes. two years ago, when we went to borneo, we'd wake up almost every morning to sit on the balcony and watch the sun rising, and the dawns really were rosy.)
eat breakfast. poached eggs with boiled asparagus, with smoked mackerel, salad and a double shot capuccino.