The Imperial College, London is a great location but let me tell you about the breakfast.
I'm situated smack bang in the diplomatic precinct, sharing rarified air with powerhouses of the world stage Romania and Greece et al. In fact the Greeks have taken up a novel way of approaching their debt crisis. They've set up a community stall on the footpath and are busking to the passers by.
Anyway - breakfast is included and I had to make my way to Hall a couple of streets away (which in London equates to about 200 metres).
Being in a rush, I went straight for the cooked breakfast but noticed that the 5 or 6 baine maries were chocka's with a gruel of various trays.
Sitting in one was a scrambled egg the like I'd not really seen before - it seemed to be stweing in its own juices.
The plate was swimming in so much oil that the mushrooms looked slicker than John Travolta yodelling "Greased Lightnin'".
It should be no surprise that from me, no cry of 'please sir, can I 'ave some more' arose from my lips.
Anyways - as some know I was The Artful Dodger of the year 1980 so 'Consider yaself...at Cafe's, it'sa clear, we're going ta get along' for me from now on...
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