How hard is it to poach an egg? 

A lot harder than boiling one, and way more difficult than frying. Mine always end up with runny whites, or angry and rubbery from being overboiled. 

But today I had a chance encounter with a perfectly poached egg – well, two actually. 

It was one of those rushing-about, not-quite-ready, where’s-my-jumper mornings, with a pinch of tripping-over-the-cat. Then Ted helped me take a small mountain of parcels to Brixton post office, and after half an hour of battling the automatic machine (with help from a very lovely lady) the parcels were finally weighed, stamped and dispatched. 

What a relief. 

I needed coffee. I stepped outside the post office. 

As if by magic, this sign appeared:

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