Guilty pleasure

Being married to a Muslim has distinct advantages for me one of which is that my husband does not drink alcohol and we do not keep any in the house. Given that my former spouse's addiction to the demon drink made my life hellish for many years I am of course very happy with this situation.

There are however occasions when I need to indulge myself and I recall a particular time when I just had to give in to temptation.

I remember jealously gazing through the large plate glass window and wanting to be part of what was going on inside. I could see the whole gamut of human emotion as I looked around at the faces. I cast my eyes around, I could see groups of people laughing, talking, perhaps arguing or perhaps not. The atmosphere seemed warm and vibrant and I was getting cold standing outside. I had to join the party.

Nervously I hesitated in the doorway. Now I could physically feel the buzz and my head spun with the cacophony of the mixed conversations. I clutched my handbag across my body and strode up to the counter.

Once served and paid up I found a seat at a small table in the corner. My mouth watered and I gulped in anticipation of the taste of what was to come. My hand reached out across the table to pick it up. As I brought it up to my mouth I paused momentarily to admire the golden yellow glow of the overspilling liquid. Holding it with both hands I greedily bit into that runny yolk, thick fluffy bread and of course that delicious crispy bacon.

Well, I still need at least one guilty pleasure and the market cafe does a grand bacon and egg butty!!