The corgis heard the bacon pan from two rooms away and were in the kitchen before I’d cracked the first egg. They are, as corgis are, entirely convinced every breakfast is for them. I set the long table the way I like it on a slow Monday - waffles stacked golden, scrambled eggs, a bowl of roast potatoes, bacon and sausage on a platter, cut watermelon and strawberries, a pink teapot that only comes out when I feel like it. The corgis took up positions on either side of the table and waited. They got bacon. Everyone got bacon.
A Monday brunch with the corgis