Nothing beats a full English breakfast, right? But if you're serving it up outside the English border, you can't call it an English breakfast. On my recent business trip to Cardiff, I was offered a Welsh breakfast. It looked eerily like an English one. There were some potatoes (a little unusual perhaps) and some slightly undercooked black pudding. But the black pudding is part of the traditional Scottish breakfast I've been served north of the border too. Come to think of it, what distinguishes it from the Manx and Irish breakfasts I've been offered? I think it's time for a London breakfast. Enfield eggs, sizzling sausages from Seven Sisters and some back bacon served up the old-fashioned Bayswater way. While I was in Cardiff, incidentally, I struggled with the lighting in my hotel room. Unable to see my hand in front of my face, I called for assistance. An Italian guy arrived and activated the lights from a switch that I had missed. Even then, I could ...
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