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Breakfast Fruit Salad

I tried making this for breakfast this morning, it's a Nigella Lawson recipe. I'm not a huge fan of mango, so perhaps I'll swap it out for banana instead next time. I think banana will mellow the whole thing out a bit more, as it goes it was a bit too sharp for my sleepy taste buds.

I'm a big fan of breakfast, it's wonderful for you. The only trouble is that my stomach is not a big fan of eating anything before around midday and it tends to rebel. I try to stick to fruit, yogurts, smoothies etc because I know I have to eat something and my stomach doesn't seem to mind them quite so much.

Yum yum yum. Mikey liked it too. In fact I was sitting on the couch eating it and he kept leaning in real close to try and get his head in the way so that perhaps I'd "accidentally" put some in his mouth instead of mine. He's a sneaky bugger, that one.

Aaaanyway. Cubed Mangos with a teeeny bit of lime juice. Finely chopped Strawberries mixed with some pomegranate juice. Vanilla Yogurt (German Yogurt is SO GOOD), seeds. Layer it to look awesome.

Yesterday Raidhyn took a picture of us taking a nap. I think Mikey likes to trap me so that I can't leave while he is napping.

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.