I am distressing un-British in my concept of the perfect breakfast. Coffee, really good bread, cold meat/dry sausage, cheese/cream cheese. Optional glass of red wine if it's a late breakfast.
Almost needless to say, I haven't had that breakfast for about 18 years now.

*distressingly

[Phil] Counter with Eggs, Sausage and cheddar on a croissant. Alternatively, four link sausages on a buttered bagel with HP sauce. Dammit, now I'm drooling all down me shirt.

[penelope] Your description of the view cued (unfairly) the following in Mr Brain:
Oh I often take these night-shift walks when the foreman's not around
Turn my back on the cooling stacks and make for open ground
Way out beyond the tank farm fence where the gas flare makes no sound
I forget the stink and I often think back to that eastern town.

Stan Rogers.

Which comes from Northwest Passage, his last and best album.