In today’s madness with devices luring us away from living life to documenting it (and yes, the irony of this blog is not wasted on me,) I think it is so important to have rituals. Rituals fix us into the moment and are the basis of memories that, let’s face it, are the most important thing we can take into our future.
Rituals and traditions were so important in the past as the years, seasons, and months were marked in different ways, each having their own flavours, gatherings, food and drink. Some of these still remain but I think are somewhat diluted, so I for one want to reclaim the art of personal traditions and rituals.
One that I plan to start straight away is the Sunday morning breakfast. First I fix myself my best coffee (Café Direct Machu Picchu) poured into my favourite china blue mug with a dash of cream. Then a thick slice of artisan bread, I’m having fig and walnut but any good bread will do.
Slather this thickly in butter – my current favourite is Goat’s butter- and enjoy, preferably sitting outside in the spring sunshine or if it’s raining as it is now, with a window open looking out at the tentative pale green shoots and the spring flowers heralding the end of winter. And breathe, the wonderful aroma of the bread and coffee is a marriage made in heaven if ever there was one. This is my new Sunday Breakfast tradition, enjoying the contentment found by stopping for an hour eating wholesome, simple food and breathing clean air in the certain knowledge that spring is finally here.