ramblings and things

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Breakfast time at

Bosworth Hall Hotel.

We found our way by

Following the smell.


Excuse me I said as

The flames inched higher,

I think I've set

The toaster on fire.

I think he realised 

It wasn't a joke

When he saw the 

Rising smoke.


I'll give him his due

He didn't linger,

Shouted bloody hell

As he burned his finger.


Feeling guilty

I hung my head

As he extracted

Blackened bread.


Though rather nice

Lacked the touch

Of a second slice.


Once again

I got into a fix:

Hotels and me

Don't seem to mix.

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Burnt Toast