March

The noblest art is that of making others happy.

~PT Barnum

Breakfast: 'a Meal Eaten in the Morning, the First of the Day.'

10th September 2019

To those who are no longer with me, 

My mind has been sufficiently blown. What is breakfast? For years, (and by years, I mean my entire life, up until last night at least) I believed it was stuff like cereal, and toast and bacon and eggs and food of that ilk. According to the Oxford English Dictionary: ‘a meal eaten in the morning, the first of the day.’ Nothing specific noted there!
Yesterday it was mums birthday and for it she received Nadiya Hussain’s (2015 Bake off Winner) latest book, and in it there is an entire section dedicated to breakfast, however, no the kind of dishes your mind first thinks of when someone says ‘breakfast’ and let me tell you, this has been the highlight of my year.
Breakfast can literally be anything you want, just in a small portion. I could have toad in the hole for breakfast if I wanted (one of Nadiya’s suggestions in her book). I could have Chinese if I wanted. I could have a wonderful fish-finger sandwich if I wanted and I have never been happier to discover this fact of life.
Those that know me, know that I struggle with breakfast. If I eat before, maybe half eight (ish) it tends to be tasteless and makes me feel it. So, know that I know that I could have literally anything at all for breakfast, maybe my mornings will be happier ones. Thank you Nadiya!
Sorry this has been a short one this week, I’m about to run out the door and meet up with a friend to support her while she gets a new tattoo. Paige, I’m coming!

So, that is what you've missed.
Love always,
Tiffany Jade 
Xo

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Water
Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble
pricked and the green thread
nibbled away, the petal fell, falling
until the only flower was the falling itself.
Water is another matter,
has no direction but its own bright grace,
runs through all imaginable colors,
takes limpid lessons
from stone,
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam.

~Pablo Neruda