Monday, 24 July 2006


The last loaf for possibly yards around and it sat there - alone, unbought and unwanted - in the shop window of the chicly trendy little Brighton deli, just before closing time. We should have known better: £1.45 for something that was the size (and, as it turned out, weight and consistency) of a small house brick.

Had we not cut into it (‘sawed’ would be a better word) it might have had its uses - such as a doorstop or a means of robbing jeweller’s shop windows - as it is, we are now committed to getting our money’s worth from something that calls itself a loaf but which not only has a grey pallor and the density of a complex mathematical formula but also smells like Guinness, and, when eventually sliced, looks disturbingly hairy!


Anna said...


That's what you get for feeling sorry for the lone brown loaf...

David Weeks said...

Nor did the bread succumb to being toasted ~ it got hot and even more yeasty smelling ~ toast is was not!

Cafrine said...

Oh dear.

Maybe if you pinch your nose while you chew it won't be so bad. Maybe shut your eyes, too.