Open up. Quote-ish, rough.
- Han ad og drak, var aldig glad,/ Hans Storlehaele gik han skjeve;/ Han ingenting bestille gad/ Tilsidst han gad ei heller leve./
- He ate, he drank, and studied woe/ wore his boot-heels down on one side;/ the little he had of get-up-and-go/ just lay down one day and died./
- Translated by Robert Ferguson. Poet Johan Herman Wessel. The Poet's Epitaph for Himself CA 1780; 1740-1785
- Wessel: a painter's son, brother to a mathematician, relative to a naval hero, this poet was born at Akershus, Norway and lived much (and also drank) in Copenhagen, see http://www.poemhunter.com/johan-herman-wessel/
- Find a slightly different translation of the Epitaph, and a much sadder one, at http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poet-s-epitaph-upon-himself/
Then breakfast. DIY. This is more than a buffet. Find a frying pan on a burner, and do your own eggs. Fried over easy, still runny. Impossible if done au kitchen. Salmon also, and three kinds of herring -- pickled, barbecue-type tomato (sweet-sour), and plain tomato. Plus all the other fixings.