Breakfast, 1997.
Wake up, stretch. Check the curtained windows for sunlight or
that dreaded grey frame that forces the covers to come back up
and the alarm clock to be set to ‘Snooze'.
In time, slippers and a slow shuffle to the kitchen. You get a little
annoyed with yourself for not having made the effort to wash those
few plates and pots the night before, but on opening
the door of the refrigerator clemency comes in the form of Tupperware;
last night's leftovers tempting you. Instead, you reach for the eggs,
the juice, inhale the ground coffee under its lid and turn on the stove.
Breakfast, 2017.
Wake up, stretch for phone. Check Facebook for notifications and
ignore the majority. Read two two-line messages and respond
accordingly. Delete three friend requests. Scroll the news feed,
click “Like” on a few funny memes and repost anything that is in line
with your political belief or touches you on a human level. People
have come to expect a quote from the Dalai Lama on your timeline.
Check the weather app. Check the news app. Read the transfer gossip
on the sports app. A spoiler for Game of Thrones. Retweet Ricky Gervais.
Slippers and a slow shuffle to the kitchen. Post picture of coffee.
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Inspired by Paul Durcan's short poems in "The Art of Life":
Ireland, 2001.
Where's my bikini?
We'll be late for mass.
Excellent capture of 20 years, from century to century
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Thanks Gary & Jerry
ROFLMAO (almost for real!)
Post picture of coffee. :) ***
Yup.
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Yes, but you must STILL reach for the eggs!*
Thanks lads and lassies - and good point Tim! Haha!
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