Friday, 18 November 2011


The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries.

[Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows]


On a cold winter’s day, I find toast so comforting [although I have no fender, no cat, no canary, nor even, sadly, slippers]

But I confess that it is a tradition in our family, which began back in 1979, that if someone says “Toast?” the correct answer is “To The Next Prime Minister!” [whoever is dwelling in Number 10 at the time]


  1. Ah toast..... a little bit of toast.... silly song from 1980s comes to mind.

    I love toast too, especially with lashings of real butter.

  2. and what's your view on the Toast sandwich as recently discussed in the news?!

  3. PQ - perhaps I should put them on my Christmas list?
    C - yes, a VERY silly song!
    S - I'm posting about that later

    thanks for comments

  4. Reading through your comments, I have to say I love the phrase "lashings of real butter." I've never heard that before, and I love it! I love toast, too, especially when it's made with homemade honey-wheat bread cut in thick slices. Yum!



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