Breakfast

‘Breakfast like a king’ is an old adage that is dear to my heart. When I was growing up we were always required to be down for breakfast at 8 a.m., no matter if the night before had been late and riotous or even if I went back to bed afterwards. It is a discipline that has stood me in good stead: on those occasions when I am at home and long to stay in bed, I seldom do so once thoughts of breakfast - one of my favourite meals - beckon.

After a lifetime of Hunt Balls, late-night parties and drink, my breakfast choices can often be eccentric: cold curry (once a feature of Hunt Balls) is still a pleasure, lard seasoned with paprika and spread on toast (recalling visits to southern Spain), or devilled pheasant legs (a throwback to shooting breakfasts). For now, however, I shall keep my frivols to myself and tell you about some of the more widely acceptable of my comfort breakfasts.