I have, of late, developed a taste for granola for breakfast.
This morning was no exception.
However, feeling rather guilty about the half eaten packet of
Rice Crispies I had spurned for my new passion,
I decided to add a couple of handfuls of them too -
waste not, want not having been drummed into me at an early age.
A quick dollop of low fat Greek yoghurt (who am I trying to kid - low fat?)
and it was back upstairs to my lair to let the heady mix foment awhile.
My butterfly brain (of the Lupus variety) quickly moved on to
matters more interesting like a new needlework blog I'd
found recently and Prince Charle's latest gaffe, when I became
aware of a curious noise which I didn't quite recognise
although it sounded "rodent" inspired to me.
I searched high and low for the source of my anxiety.
Not rats again please. Perhaps the workmen had disturbed
something nasty in the walls which was now about to seek revenge?
It turned out, however, to be nothing more sinister than the
Rice Crispies coming to life beneath their blanked of yoghurt.
To use an old Norfolk saying "What am I loik?"
I must get out more.