Written: 2nd Nov 2009 | Last Updated: 2nd Dec 2009
I love waking to a new day - discovering its weather and wind...listening to birdcalls and neighbourhood a.m. sounds...showering while watching our graceful eucalypts sway beyond the bathroom’s high north-facing windows...freeing the dogs from their overnight kennel area and seeing them romp and chase one another on the lawn...and I like scooping up the newspapers, one local, one national, and taking them to the kitchen to open them (with difficulty) from their plastic wrappings to discover what the editors believe to be worthy of comment.
This pattern, which links seamlessly into breakfast at the table with my wonderful hubby, is a perfect shape as far as I’m concerned - a routine beginning that sets the tone for the rest of the day. When rushed, due to economy of time or unforseen circumstances, I feel gypped…and the afternoon suffers for it. There are very few things in life we can control, but I like to believe that the first hours of daylight are OURS to shape as we please!
Breakfast, as wise old ladies will tell you, is the most important meal of the day. No skimping at our house: juice, proper old-fashioned oatmeal or Bircher muesli or another style of cereal, yoghurt, fruits - often blueberries, but sometimes luscious mangoes or pawpaw, toast & Vegemite, often but not always eggs - poached, boiled, fried, scrambled (we’re not scared of eggs!) and a nice cup of tea. Even if we’re out sailing on the river, this big breakfast is the go. It sets us up for what’s to come, and really, however fabulous, no other meal satisfies as much.
Back to the newspapers - there’s no doubt they’re in crisis, with many around the world shutting down presses and turning out the lights for the last time. People, cups of latte in hand, now grab their bytes from slick phones & skinny laptops, foraging for what they want to know instead of what editors want to tell them. It’s a far cry from my childhood when newspapers were mighty empires dishing up the world’s wonders and woes onto your kitchen table with eloquence and conviction. You believed in them, especially the great broadsheets - they carried serious weight and wielded real power. The tabloids were for society pix and horseracing results, not for serious news. That’s just how it was.
So, at breakfast this morning, as I spread out The Australian to read what’s happening, I study politics and business, sociology and mores, philosophy and history; it’s sometimes very well-written, sometimes a little self-congratulatory, but it’s there to hold and flip and sift and tear out, to save in a folder if you want to use it for reference; it’s human-friendly, and fresh every day, just like our breakfast. Even if reports are as many as two or three days behind the story that broke on the internet, it is more satisfying to read it in your hands…well, for me, anyway.
Good morning...