English Breakfast

I like to have a big cup of coffee in the morning. Not so much because I need the caffeine. I don't. I drink decaf. I just like coffee.

The last couple of days I haven't been able to have my morning cup. I don't have any coffee in the house and haven't managed to make it to the store. Normally I would just skip it and make a mental note to buy some coffee, but it has been so bloody cold lately that I need something hot. In place of my beloved cup of Joe, I have had to resort to drinking tea. English breakfast to be exact.

Drinking this particular flavor of tea brought back a vivid memory. Liz and Norman brought Tina and I to this little coffee bistro when we first arrived in Scotland. I follow the old maxim "cum in Roma", so I ordered the "Scottish Breakfast". I devoured it. There were a few things on my plate that I didn't immediately recognize, but that never stopped me before.

Afterwards, I asked about the little blackish mound of stuff I had eaten. They explained to me that it was black pudding.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Well, it is blood that they boil and add spices to." Liz said.

At this very moment, I let loose a sneeze I had been fighting off. When I looked up, everyone had taken a step back and had a horrified look on their face.

"What's wrong?"

"Well," Liz said "I thought after telling you what was in the black pudding... and the motion that you just made... well, I thought you were going to vomit."

They were actually surprised that I hadn't.

So it's been nice re-living some old travel memories. I will have to get some coffee soon or I'll keep reliving my travels to Britain. Then you'll be subjected to my "Jack the Ripper" story.