Thursday 23rd June 2011
At the end of my Mum’s road there is a little shopping precinct. In this precinct there used to be an old fashioned baker’s. The type that had iced buns & bakewell tarts in the window. Before you could get slices of pizza & jumbo sausage rolls. A real baker’s.
When I was old enough to be given some independence, Mum would ask me to go down to the baker’s to get the bread.
We always had the same thing; a crusty bloomer. It was usually warm a soft. Both ends of the loaf exposed the doughy inners, where it had been separated from the batch.
On the 3 minute walk back to Mum’s I would start to nibble at this bit until I got home. It was so morish that on occasion I had been known to devour a substantial part of the loaf before I handed it over to Mum. 🙂
I always take a chocolate nutella sandwich on Mondays after school for, my son, Zephyrus. He is a stickler for routine and berates me if for some reason I take a cheese spread sandwich instead.