Toast And The End Of The Lilies

French Toast -  brunch on first day in New Zealand at Queen's Wharf in Auckland. ( That's maple syrup in the sugar crusted glass....)

Smoked  Cheddar and Fig chutney roll -  our picnic at Saunton Sands, North Devon, on Saturday

Razor Shell and blinding sun, Saunton Sands

Evening in University Park, Exeter, with my brother last week.

Welcome home gift of  Oriental lilies.

My husband discovered French Toast ( NZ/ US style, with bananas, bacon and maple syrup) on our first hot bright blue morning in Auckland down on the harbourside. He loved every mouthful - doesn't remember eating it before. He ordered it again for lunch the next day in Rotorua when we escaped into a cafe during a huge downpour. I was afraid he would eat nothing else the whole of our trip.

I don't like it myself ( I have an aversion to any kind of soggy bread) but promised I'd make him French Toast when we got home - which I did last night -  my version at least  - I balked at serving the banana skin - sliced and fried the banana instead - in butter. He has asked me to show him how to cook it. I'm resisting that ( afraid that he'll make enough for four people and eat it all ) - trying to impress on him the thing about its fattening potential and the importance of it being an occasional weekend treat.

But I think he only remembers the taste - the sweetness and the comfort of it - and that every day is treat potential and you can never have enough toast.....or jam.

This morning I threw away the last of the beautiful waxy white lilies ( faded now) - a welcome home gift from a dear friend nearly three weeks ago......feeling sad for her and her husband - their little dog, their long life companion, died yesterday......and another dear friend whose young dog was killed today in an accident. The suddenness of it,  the shock of it - unprepared for the silent cavern these beloved non -humans leave in the rooms, in the hearts, they inhabited.