OUR DAILY BREAD

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!