Abominable snowman. The clue’s in the name really. Not abominable sandman, or abominable strawman, or abominable man sitting happily in the sunshine with a Corona and lime. The name of this feared, yeti-like creature was inspired by snow.
The single worst climate creation that Mother Nature has ever bestowed upon us, snow in the UK is the antichrist of seasonal weather patterns. People who get excited by it or worse, wish for it, deserve death by apocalyptic locust swarm.
On days this sleety and shit, there’s only one thing that can drag me from the happiness of my duvet pit, one shining beacon of hope in this grey and miserable abyss.
Eggs and alcohol, obviously. And so, wrapped in six layers, two pairs of socks, boots and an outdoor picnic blanket, I headed to Kings Cross for a bunch date with friends.
I’d always assumed Kings Cross was a week day spot, a place people go to get on trains, batter slow-walking commuters with a rolled-up copy of the Metro and pretend to be a wizard on Platform 9 ¾. But it’s surprisingly packed with brunch outlets and posh gastropubs, a little hub of London trendies pontificating about the price of organic doughnut bars.
We chose canal-side gastropub and brunch restaurant The Lighterman, which is based on Granary Square, a few minutes’ walk from the station. The brunch menu has a large selection of healthy options for the chia seed crew, as well as egg and pancake dishes for Team Saturated Fat. There’s also a breakfast cocktail menu, because everyone knows it’s fine to get pissed before 11am as long as the drinks can masquerade as fruit juice.
Choosing from a menu where I want to eat all of the things is difficult, and I was tempted by the full English and the cherry tomato baked eggs with avocado. I’ve become a breakfast cooking fiend this year, but since my hollandaise sauce skills are still lacking, I decided to go for the Eggs Benedict. Warm, flaky ham, served on muffins with perfectly poached eggs and thick creamy sauce. If I die of a premature heart attack, at least I’ll know it was worth it.
Another dish that deserves a mention was the smoked cheddar flatbread, a pizza-like creation laden with bacon, cheese, Worcestershire sauce and a fried egg. Like Welsh Rarebit, the breakfast episode. 
The service was swift, friendly and best of all, we got a table without making a booking on a Saturday morning. Go there now, before someone puts it on a top 10 brunch list and you have to wait four and half hours for a coffee in a queue with 32 man bun sporting hipsters.
