I’ve spent all together too much time south of the river recently. Wouldn’t mind so much if the bridge was still open. But this is not a local politics blog. I fancy seeing one of my favourite people, and my friend is amenable to the plan. We triangulate and filter down - Bedminster? Yes. Bristol Loaf? Maybe. The Toast Room is suggested - never heard of it. But it sells toast, and that can’t be bad. A small independent café (I know, me?) where I just manage to nab the last table. I’ve just got a 5k PB and as such am famished. The breakfast hash - sausage, bacon, cherry tomatoes, a whole tonne of fried potatoes, served with poached eggs and sourdough - is surely the answer. Thank god it proves to be so. Even without the oozing presence of the egg yolk, the dish somehow ever avoids being dry, despite the lack of binding agent and the presence of some quite intense herbage and spices. Probably too much oil according to a doctor, but in my books, my god it works. Pair with a freewheeling discussion of the art of the stand up and trying to talk about anything but, and what a delightful brunch you’ll have.