Feeding the Birds.

Before setting off back home today, a drive of about 230 miles; I popped down to the village to stock up on some essentials. It is a cardinal sin to leave here without buying three dozen Staffordshire oatcakes, both Mrs TD and myself are rather partial to this local delicacy, particularly when filled with breakfast though we have been known to partake of such a feast for our evening meal. Mrs TD once brought the full quota when she came home by train – unfortunately, the oatcakes carried on to Inverness, I hope they were appreciated when they arrived there. I’ve written about Barry’s Pantry, the artisan baker of these before but probably didn’t mention that the workers in the pottery industry used to buy them for their “snappin,” the local equivalent of our “play piece.” They have the virtue of being suitable for reheating on a shovel placed in a pottery kiln, a practice similar to that which the train drivers of old used to cook their meals while at work.
 
Any road up, as they say down here, opposite Barry’s is this small public garden that backs onto the Mere. Unfortunately, this is the larger of only two places where one can get withing bread throwing distance of the water to feed the ducks, unless you are rich enough to own one of the houses whose gardens back on to the lake. This garden seems to have been built and is maintained by a modest group of philanthropists known as The Bhoys of Alsager, and I know nothing else about them other than that they carry a banner in a few of the local parades.
This mother and toddler are not having much luck since the ducks are conspicuous by their absence, but all is not lost as the black-headed gulls are benefitting from the situation.