My life in bakeries

Once upon a time, I loved Danish pastries. Especially those from a bakery situated on a corner near Nicholson street in Edinburgh, where I was a student. I had a Danish Pastry habit (DP) back then, and recall vividly one day when I'd bought one for 29 pence, and was happily walking down the Bridges eating it, when I bumped into a beardie from my department. (I was doing Spanish, and he hispanic studies). He saw me eating it! Big deal, you say, but I was 17, with all the weirdness of youth ... I found it highly embarassing to be seen eating in the street, let alone an item that contained actual calories and stuff !

Later, that term, during an all night occupation of the library (sleepover?) in protest at our modest grant increases (what grant? What increase? I hear you ask), I shared a set of tables with him and his mate from Hispanic studies. I sat opposite him, and our feet connected under the table. I made a bold, brave decision not to move my foot first. And thus our feet remained, in blissful communion, until he and his compadre got up to go to the cafe. Oddly, after he'd left, my foot still felt the light touch against it. The sensation persisted so long, so wonderfully, that forty minutes passed before I could bring myself to look under the table for the source. There I disocvered, nestling alongside a half-pint of milk, a single abandoned boot!

And that, dear folks, was that. Ended before it even began. The lovely man was, I later discovered, not interested in women, let alone ex-convent girls who had the temerity to eat baked goods in the street!

Reader, the story has a happy ending. I continued to study Spanish, and finally went to Spain, where I found an altogether superior class of pasteleria, or pastry shop. I visited it three times a day for three weeks, and never even thought about the calories. The DP (as I'd nicknamed him) was by then living in Pennsylvania, on an exchange programme. I hope he had some stupendous eating experiences there.

Meanwhile, it's 2015, I don't eat wheat any more. The only flippin' blip I can get is of the High Street with Greggs bakery on the right nearside. This, and the Penny Farthing Cafe on the left, are the only two premises open at 8am. The weather turned lovely this afternoon, but I only noticed when I went to the photocopier. At this time of year, with our low roof and the low light, we don't really see much daylight in the nursery.

It was, however, delightful to see the children again, after the break, and spend the day painting seasonal pictures with them, and trying to encourage them not to paint everything dark blue! Blue sun, blue sky, blue ducks, blue fireworks, blue leaves, blue Christmas.... you get the notion!

PS I can't even remember the last Danish pastry I ever partook of. Probably a pecan plait from Tesco's, in March of last year. Don't ever let anyone tell me that they've invented a delicious, light, gluten-free Danish, because I simply won't believe them.