Breakfasts in the garden

When we were younger (this was in 2004), we used to have breakfasts in our garden on Sundays. We would pull out a couple of foldable tables and blue foldable chairs from our store cupboard in the lobby and set them up in the garden in front of the unit which was eventually occupied by Auntie Heidi and Uncle Dave.

We would cover the tables with batik table cloths and bring down cups, utensils, milk jugs, spreads, and bread. I usually had baguette with butter, and I had a strange habit of pulling all the white bread out from the crust, rolling it into little balls and eating that before spreading my butter onto the hollow crust of the baguette and eating that second.

Sometimes Dad would drive out to Ghim Moh and get bee hoon, although I always preferred my bread and butter. It's incredible to think that I'm eight here, Tim is four, Hannah is ten, and Auntie Cecelia had been with us three years already.

These family breakfasts used to be such a tradition that we even created a pulley system by attaching a basket to a length of string from our balcony, so we could more easily transport the plates, cups and food from our unit on the third floor to the garden.

We don't have family garden breakfasts much any more, since church starts so early now. But perhaps one Saturday, when I am not working at the cafe, we'll take out the (now probably rusty) blue chairs and tables again.