This morning, it being Sunday and all, we decided we'd make like the aussies and have a barbeque brekkie in Centennial Park. Only if we were being truly australian about it I'd be calling it "breaky" because that's how they spell brekkie, which is just wrong-diddly-wrong. Breaky is breaky as in achy breaky heart.
Still, we're poms. And you can tell we're poms because if we were aussies we wouldn't turn up until at least 10.30am, until the sun had chance to dry some of the dew on the grass and the swing and the slide. They call slides "slippery dips". That's wrong as well.
So we pitch up at 8.45am and it's freezing cold and the picnic table's in the shade. And I'm wearing open-toed sandals. Thank God for take-out coffee.
Still, compliments to the chef. Our first barbequed brekkie was superb.
No comments:
Post a Comment