Breakfast in Paradise

Mmmmmm. This is the place I had a power-breakfast with DB this morning, which consisted of 1 egg, beans, 2 toast, 3 hash browns, mushrooms and tomato. That was the last breakfast of my 42nd year. Will they let me extend my mid-life crisis do you think? It's really proving most enjoyable, especially the breakfasts.

There must be a hundred cafés up and down the Holloway Road, but only 3 or 4 I will eat in. There's a café just south of Paradise which I won't name but which I will not enter, despite the charm of it's proprietor, the good mix of customers and the pleasant enough North London metropolitan ambience. Twice I've got the most appalling food-poisoning from that place, once running in bowel-panic from a business meeting, sweat suddenly pouring down my face, grabbing desperately at pants while trying to find nearest available lavatory. Never again.

Paradise is clean, well-attended, and like all cafés around here must be to survive, excellent value, offering a good meal for under 4 quid. You can buy a beer there, good tea and coffee, and a wonderful variety of grilled, fried, roasted and casseroled dishes, with a few choice sweets, mostly of the warm and filling kind, and often involving custard.

I haven't told anyone but I've been entertaining fantasies about the waitress, mostly of the warm and filling kind, and often involving custard.