The Staff of Life

The staff of life it may be, but not for me who has sadly dispensed with its support and can only admire these freshly baked loaves from a safe distance.

And admire them I do, imagining my teeth sinking into a slice of one of the crusty loaves spread with butter and thick cut marmalade or cheese.
Alas that delight is a thing of the past now that a thinner Lady Findhorn is emerging at last from her chrysalis of avoirdupois.
I have decided that for me it is the devil's own food along with potatoes in all their disguises and any cheese other than the tasteless cottage variety.
Fruit, vegetables and protein is the name of the game now.

Not so His Lordship, who attacked with such gusto a crusty slice of bread at one of our holiday lunches that he broke a crown on one of his teeth; a £400 slice of the staff of life, you might say.

Dental services on the National Health service come at a hefty price if any cosmetic work has to be carried out, and he is already scheduled for further work which will ensure the sum of a small mortgage goes towards the school fees of our charming lady dentist.

He has just returned from her with a temporary crown and two crusty rolls for his lunch..........what can I say?