Do you know the muffin man?

I had the most delicious breakfast on Saturday. I have to admit that fewer things in life beat a frothy cappuccino in the early morning. It was well worth waking up at dawns crack to meeting Snow and Slacky (physio varsity mates) at Tasha's in Melrose Arch at 8am. After hearing a muffled growl coming from somewhere beneath the table, followed shortly by something which sounded like earth-moving operations (which I soon realised were coming from my echoing stomach), I decided to have a quick squiz at the muffins on display. The muffin man was clearly not on strike that morning because the assortment of muffins that lay warm and inviting in the cake display cabinet were more exciting than popcorn and a coke at the movies (I have been known to go to movies simply for the popcorn and coke). There were blueberry, chocolate, carrot, banana and pecan and bran muffins all glistening invitingly with fancy assortments of decorative toppings. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. The thought of ordering French toast or scrambled eggs after seeing that display would have been like hiring Fight Club to watch Edward Norton and looking away in every shot of Brad Pitt’s abs. I ordered banana and pecan and it was delicious. I am talking Meg-Ryan’s-restaurant-scene- in-When-Harry-Met-Sally-delicious. It took me several minutes to decide which flavour to go for, but that bad boy stood no chance once it was served to me on an icing-sugary platter. There wasn’t a crumb left and the manager even came up to me to ask if I wanted a second one on the house because he had witnessed the punishing of the first. I politely declined. Idiot!