Hot bread and butter and memories of a lost friend.
Some years ago, I was writing on the now defunct writing platform, Bubblews.
One of the friends I made on that platform was a South African gentleman, Tony Flanigan.
Tony wrote a lovely article about his favourite bread, sour dough, and eating it with fresh butter and liver sausage while staring out over a majestic South African vista.
Well, I couldn’t match that, but I do have memories regarding fresh bread.
When I was very young, I had a paper round, as many of my friends did. I would finish the roundabout 8am and return to the newsagents to drop off my empty bag. Next to the paper shop was a baker’s shop, and they would just be finishing a bake around this time. I would buy a hot “Long tin” loaf and some freshly baked jam doughnuts.
It only took me two minutes to get back to the flat I shared with my dad. We would have hot slices of bread smothered with warm melting butter, followed by doughnuts with warm jam in the centre, all this with a cup of tea.
After this, my dad would go off to open his builders’ merchant shop. If I was late coming in with the bread, I am sure the shop remained shut.
When I was eating my fresh bread and butter, I could only look over the rooftops of London (our flat was on the 3rd floor) not the South African plains. But I bet it tasted just as good as Tony’s sour dough and liver sausage.
I believe that eating hot bread with real butter can seriously damage your health.
I suppose that’s why my dad died at the young age of 95.
Sadly, I have lost contact with Tony and the many friends I made in those short few years on Bubblews, as the Rolling Stones once sang.
“Aint life unkind.”
