The Saturday morning ritual. Jo heads across to the bakery to grab a fresh loaf of bread while I make bacon and eggs and coffee. We prefer the loaves from the Vietnamese-run bakery in Chester street, but they’re often not ready until 9:30, so the earlier mornings’ bread comes from the market bakery. A split-Vienna loaf, often still warm from the oven. At least half the loaf vanishes with breakfast and lunch on Saturday, Sunday morning is usually toast made from the rest…
As I grabbed my slices of toast and put them on the bench, Jo burst out laughing, pointing out that they looked like the silhouette of a basset hound. Far more interesting then the assorted images of Jesus and Mary that are seen in donuts or tree stumps, in our bread slices we have seen completely non-denominational penguins, octopus and the odd basset!
