Okey-dokey folks, we're risen, shiny and zingy; let's now pile into our frukost. It's Day 13991 (for at least one of us) and another breakfast in Stockholm is delightfully imminent. Orange juice (with 'bits' of course: the smooth variety carries unpleasant reminders of orange squash, the additive-ridden mainstay of childhood), and a generous bowlful of Quaker Havre Fras, bobbing about in a milk-bath. That will set me up for the next four hours or so.
"Havre Fras, Paul? What's that all about then?"
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