Every Saturday morning, without fail, I crave a good breakfast. And almost every Saturday morning, without fail, I kick myself for not being more prepared for this craving. I’m always left with only eggs and bread. No bacon or sausages in sight. Which means that we usually dress ourselves in lightning speed and set off to find good breakfast elsewhere. The only issue I have with that is that it seems the whole of Pretoria has the same idea and every good breakfast spot is packed to the rafters with chic-breakfast-eaters with dark glasses, iPhones and skinny jeans. Not exactly toddler-territory. So we settle on a mediocre (at best)…