He stretches out of bed every morning and performs the same ritual, beginning with half-closed eyes and finishing fully a-wake and a-lert:
He fills the small coffee percolator with coffee and water and places it on a low heat for fifteen minutes. As it warms, he takes a handmade japanese blue-glazed cup from the shelf above the sink, measures out just less than a cupful of crushed oats and throws them in a pot. He fills the cup twice with water, allowing it to spill over the sides and wash any remaining bits of oat dust into the pot. He adds a pinch of salt for the acidity, a pinch of cayenne pepper for the kick and cooks it gently on the lowest heat for thirty minutes. He pours the coffee into the same blue-glazed cup and sips on it while reading a book from the library, passing regularly into the kitchen to stir the solidifying mixture.
About five minutes before the consistency is right, he adds half a mashed banana, eats the other half, and puts on a second coffee.
When the mixture has become porridge, he turns the heat off, tumbles the gloopy mixture into a bowl and lets it sit. After about five minutes, he adds a tablespoon of crushed linseed and a quarter chopped avocado, mixes it all together and stirs in half a teaspoon of honey - thyme, linden or tea-tree work best. Finally, he places twelve blueberries evenly across its surface, eight around the edges of the bowl, four in its centre, and pours the second cup of coffee.
This morning, however, he does none of this. He wakes up after only six hours of sleep thinking about his grandmother who recently passed away. She lived in meath...
[aidan :: BLOG: https://app.sigle.io/floatinghome.id.blockstack]
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