Everyone knows you never go à la carte for breakfast in a hotel. I can measure out my life in pancakes, paratha and pain au chocolat
I’m a big girl. I keep my lip stiff, maintain my sense of proportion, ensure my eye is always on the prize. When the government said that there wouldn’t be summer holidays this year, I said, “No problem.” When it was announced that some kids might not go back to school before September, meaning parents would have to spend another four months home schooling while also doing their own jobs without, somehow, whacking out their own brains with a book titled Phonics Level 4, I said, “So be it.” And when I realised I would – gasp! – not have a birthday party this month, I pulled up my big-girl pants and said, “It is for the greater good.”
But when I heard that hotel breakfast buffets “might be a thing of the past”, a red line was crossed. Squeezing that extra drop of lemon juice into my wound (instead of on to the crepe at the crepe station, where it belongs), one hotelier told a reporter, “We’ve gone entirely à la carte.”
Continue reading...from The Guardian https://ift.tt/2LUAHOa
