The Perfect Boiled Egg
two dozen
at the bottom of the pot
as hard as rocks
two dozen at the top
liquid beneath the stale bread
resurrected as toast
and used as blotting paper
to mop them up
and there
lurking somewhere
in the middle of the pot
hiding like the prize number
waiting for the winner
in a national lottery
the perfect boiled egg
Comment: School food was always a thing of wonder and I remember it only too well. If nothing else, the school sports gave me an appetite and the school food made me more or less omnivorous and gave me a cast-iron stomach. I can’t remember who said them first, but I always associate these words it with St. Trinian’s: “School fish: the piece of cod that passeth all understanding.” We sat at tables of eight and we could always find someone who would eat whatever we left … more about that (and school) later.
rogermoorepoet 
I loathed school food and took to making my own lunches. I love your comment regarding the “cast-iron stomach”. That is about how I remember them.
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It was a boarding school too: 3 meals a day, age 6 to age 18. More tales to follow. I have written a book on this one. I still think of it as a 12 year prison sentence.
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I can’t wait…Lol
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…and here’s the recipe for perfect toast (translated from a Dutch poem): Toast the bread until it blackens, And then twelve seconds less.
Cheerio! Chuck Author: Three Wrongs AMACAT Steal It All Coming Soon: The Body on the Underwater Road
On Tue, Apr 4, 2017 at 10:13 AM, rogermoorepoetdotcom wrote:
> rogermoorepoet posted: ” The Perfect Boiled Egg two dozen at the bottom of > the pot as hard as rocks two dozen at the top liquid beneath the stale > bread resurrected as toast and used as blotting paper to mop them up and > there lurking somewhere in the middle of the pot hiding like” >
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I take it you are either home or close to home. Give me a call if you are and let me know how you are doing.
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