Yes, this Sunday has seen me make yet another bolt for the Bakery...I leave home at about 11.45 in the hopes to reach the Bakery before noon. Dear Reader - please imagine my nervousness as I skim over pot-holes,slide round piles of rubbish on the road, as I hog my side of the road in the face of an oncomer...whilst trying not to be worried by the ditch on the passenger side to which the car appears to be attracted....
I get to my destination before mid-day, brake carefully once parked in a wide space that allows me to easily get out of the driver's side door...
I breathe, collect my basket from the boot of the car, make sure I have my elephant bag, put the car's keys firmly but carefully into the alloted pocket for car keys, shift everything to my right hand side with my stick firmly in my left hand. Breathing deeply I walk towards the Bakery door. Oh, bliss! It opens automatically as I get near the sliding doors - so there will be service after all!
Inside the Bakery are quite a few people wandering around, unperturbed - not even noticiing my frantic entry, concentrated on the bread in their baskets or under their arms. I stop, I breathe - deeply, noticeably - I slow down and start to look around.
Ah, Dear Reader I can hear you think: but of course, she is in France, Bread is King in France....
...apologies....I was out of wine!
