So I popped by for a quiet lunch on my own earlier today and as I was taking photos of my glorious French toast like any conscientious, diligent Burppler/iPhotograher/food-obsessed Instagrammer would, these two girls sitting right next to me started talking in no hushed tones about what they think of people who take photos of their food. Obviously their condescending comments were meant to be heard by me, though I merely brushed off their grating ABC accents (only applicable to them because of what they were saying) as I would mosquitoes buzzing in my ear, and went on to enjoy what I had come for: the food. Seriously, people who love to eat (and take photos of our nosh) are the best people ever cos we really don't give a shit about anything except having a good meal and posting pretty photos depicting it.
And thankfully this triplet of fluffy brioche covered in egg was such heaven to my tastebuds, a slab of luscious hazelnut butter melding seamlessly with the lashings of syrup lavishly poured over soft poached apples and smoky back bacon.
Ahhhh, too blessed to be stressed by meaningless fools.