I had to make greasy fry-up (fi-up) at DH's insistence, after his bitter, bitter disappointment this morning upon discovering that the hotel breakfast was a continental one (and the croissants were, for people used to the genuine French article, crap). He sat, mauling bits of toast in upset fashion, muttering 'this breakfast's crap. Where's the sausage, where's the bacon'.
So, we've just had sausage, bacon, fried potatoes, mushrooms, grilled tomato, fried egg and beans. With toast.
And cream cakes for afters.
He's a very, very happy boy now!