Where's my Supper?

Today Grandad cooked himself bacon and eggs on toast, all hail the conquering hero. For this is a man who could design, build and operate a radio station, satellite link or regional telephone network, but who struggled to make toast, unless he could walk into a cafe and ask for toast. So to have graduated to a 3-component meal is practically Cordon Vert, for him. Not only, but also, the distinctive aroma of frying bacon made Grandma open her eyes and say "Where's my supper?" which is more words than she has said so far this month. Bacon has gained notoriety as the downfall of vegetarians, (notably Jof) and it has been scientifically proven that the smell of frying bacon even causes a massive spike in the autonomic nervous systems of Vegans*, who worry about things like cruelty to yogurt.
After school I went to the library again because BeastQuest was absolute pants. I conned the librarian into accepting my assurance that I'd already handed it back and got something else. All in all, a good day with no bullying, floating fun at swimming and tomorrow Jof has told me I can buy some Match Attack cards! Bud says it will be like Moshi Monsters - a short-lived expensive playground fad resulting in a lot of half-completed sticker booklets being thrown in the bin when we've all grown out of it. Blue Meany. ps. I detect a mouse in da house. Perhaps we need a cat.
* Protein-challenged eco-activists, not my brethren from Vega