The other morning (I think it was Saturday) Gavin and I were talking on the phone. After a few minutes of conversation, we mutually decided it was time to hang up and get breakfast.
It was nice to know someone else respected the great tradition of Breakfast. When I visited Breakfast was Quite Important even if it was Crispix. Waffles also graced the table several mornings.
One of the many signs that Gavin was right happened about year ago, at breakfast. I was carefully buttering my crumbling croissant in the common breakfast room in our Erfurt Hotel, my orange juice and a second hard roll sat next to my plate.
The door to the room burst open and my roommate entered, in a singsong voice she said: “Kindli-poo, Gavin-poo is on the phone for you.”
The singsong “Kindli-poo” grated. I looked up from my buttered croissant. “Please tell him I’m having breakfast, I’ll call him back later.”
You would’ve thought I’d told her to jump off the roof of the hotel. “He’s calling from Boston.”
“I’m having breakfast, he’ll understand. Please tell him I’ll call him back later.”
She retreated looking rather shocked.
When I talked to my roommate, she said in amazement: “He said, that’s OK I’ll talk to her later then. He wasn’t upset at all.”
Later, I talked to Gavin about it. We laughed at my poor roommate’s terror. With in a week the Legend of the Importance of Kindli’s Breakfast circulated through out the Abroad Group.
I don’t think my roommate in Erfurt ever quite recovered from the shock. “He called from Boston,” she would mumble. “And he didn’t mind you were having breakfast… ’




