I bow to the egg champion

It has been brought to my attention that not everyone was happy with my comments about EotMEotE. Apparently some thought my remarks in questionable taste (see comments for previous entry). But what can they have meant? Of COURSE my tongue is in my cheek! Where else would it be?

BUT – I will not be taking part in EoMEoTE. Instead I relinquish the role to my ten year old daughter who established her supreme credentials at the age of seven when we staggered out of bed one Saturday morning to find her in the kitchen in the middle of frying an egg. But not just ANY egg. No. This was her SEVENTH fried egg of the morning. She had never before fried anything (and technically speaking wasn’t allowed to be using the stove)

So we bought her a frying pan of her own for her next present.

She may not choose to write about her eggsperience, however. After all the egg itself is what is important – much more so than the toast. There is after all only one possible answer to that ancient question, “which came first, the toast or the egg?”

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