It was odd this morning. I got up a little later than usual, because I just wanted to, and had the beginnings of a headache. Then went into the kitchen and made breakfast. Two slices of toast, the bread was malted brown and then added some cheese on top. The beautiful Welsh Rabbit. I watched the cheese as it began to bubble wondering whether I should wait longer for it to turn a golden brown colour. It didn't because patience had decided to take a hike. I dropped the toast on a plate, spread just a little of piri piri sauce ontop and ate. Listening to the Radio 4, Today program. Finished a cup of tea and unplugged the radio to take upstairs. Going into the front room I was hit by a smell. It was undoubtedly the smell of chocolate powder. The kind used to make hot chocolate drinks. This was odd I thought. The smell of slightly burnt toast would of made more sense however, the kitchen door had been closed. I couldn't understand where it came from. It was just there. So for a moment rather than worry about whether there was some kind of brain thing going on, I took another couple of deep breaths, wondered, just a little and carried on with waking up.
I once read a short story. It took only a few lines in the book. A man is on a cliff he's afraid because it looks like he is going to fall. He stumbles and does fall, except he doesn't scream. As gravity takes its effect and the cliff faces passes him by he grabs out at a flower he sees jutting from a small edge. Calmly as he can, he sniffs it and enjoys the aroma.
Tell you what, bet it wasn't as good as the smell of chocolate.
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