There are cappuccino mornings, when you have all the time in the world to stop off at your local coffee bar and indulge in a nice leisurely brew, perhaps choosing an apple & cinnamon muffin, or a skinny wholewheat banana muffin if you’re feeling virtuous. And there are double espresso mornings, when you stagger out of bed 20 minutes after your alarm goes off, burn your toast, lose your car keys and generally drag yourself limping along, wondering desperately when someone is going to take pity on you and thrust a steaming hot double espresso under your quivering lip.

And then there are chocolate brownie mornings. These are in a class of their own and I generally reserve this label for those days that start off so appallingly that my only defense is to retreat back to bed, from whence wild Siberian Tigers could not drag me, unless they were offering, balanced enticingly on the tips of their sharp little claws, quadruple helpings of these Deep Dark Double Chocolate Brownies…..Sigh!

Today, was a chocolate brownie day. Actually, that is unfair, it was just a chocolate brownie morning. I can’t remember when last I had a whole chocolate brownie day – probably because I have sensibly wiped it from my memory. Still, all things considered, a morning was all I was able to handle.

I may have mentioned before that mornings are not really something I count as part of my skills set. This may have been something of an understatement. Still, as long as I keep my pre-caffeine interactions to a minimum before 11.am, I can generally get away with only minor collateral damage.

Not so this morning. I think I may have scarred the neighbours’ cute little Manx kittens for life. Strike that, the little buggers are fine, I’m the one with post traumatic stress.

4.30am !!!! 4.30am!! I don’t care who you are, that’s early. Clearly Wilbur and Crosby don’t care who you are either. They were up, why wasn’t I?

To be honest, I didn’t really register that that constant thud-clunk was the terrible two, flinging themselves against the cat flap with reckless abandon. It probably only took them 10 minutes to figure it out, so the noise eventually stopped. The cries and meows didn’t really do much to drag me from the arms of Morpheus either. I guess I just convinced myself they were part of the bizarre dream I was having. It was the smell that did it.

My best guess is that having worked their way into my home via aforementioned catflap, they raced around for a while like so many teenage gatecrashers, then panicked when they couldn’t work out how to leave the party. Understandable really, because I don’t have the greatest sense of direction either, but then I am a much better mannered guest. I make it a point to ask where the bathroom is.

Yep, the smell will get me every time, and much as I love cats, these two are no longer welcome in my home. It was past five before things were back to their former pristine condition, and I could get in the shower. Still bleary-eyed, but good ‘n clean ‘n fresh, I stood in my kitchen waiting while the kettle boiled. I put the washing machine on boil wash, made a Cowboy pot of coffee (you know, the kind you can stand your teaspoon up in), cut up a mango and took the tray back to bed. Rory and I sat up talking ’til 6.30am when he had to leave for another week of travel, food and more travel. Then despite the cowboy coffee, I finally succumbed to shock and curled up in the foetal position I went back to sleep.

Where I stayed, and stayed, until finally realising that there were no wild Siberian tigers bearing chocolate offerings, at least not in Somerset, and that any doses of chocolate TLC were going to have to be self-administered, I finally made it to the kitchen.

I think I must be psychic, because when I made a batch of Deep Dark Double Chocolate Brownies for a client’s party on the weekend, I tucked away an emergency stash. Just for medicinal purposes, you understand. And it’s a good thing I did…

Recipes

Deep Dark Double Chocolate Brownies recipe link

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