a creature of fine and delicious habits
If I have to choose an adjective to describe being in the queue inside The Bretzel bakery it would be – decadent.
Having caught up on some sleep I thought I might be too late for a turnover and was surprised to see two of them on the shelf, still. There were two men in front of my – three is the limit for instore – and I listened to the first man, a young man, make his request. He wanted a bagel and a scone. The girl asked him if he’d like a fruit scone or mixed berry. While he seemed to struggle with this choice, I had made my mind up in an act and added a mixed berry scone to my mental list of turnover (sliced lengthways, please) and a delicious berry loaf, I know, I know, it’s a lot of berries for one man!
The other man was old. He looked old and wobbly, but not so old and wobbly that he couldn’t make it to the bakery. A fleeting thought popped into my head – What if this old guy asks for the last two turnovers – but I didn’t have to worry. He wanted a slice of gur cake and an Americano. I be like – I betcha they didn’t have Americanos when you were a young fella.
It was my turn.
Since I began life in Portobello, Dublin 8, I have become a creature of fine and delicious habits and combined with an appreciation of the temporary nature of life and probable finite nature of death they are reasons to be cheerful. I know it’s a time of lockdown, but the numbers seem to be coming down and today is a beautiful spring day, it’s not exactly warm outside but neither is it cold and I am about to put my woollen hat to one side and don my baseball cap and walk off the half of the delicious merry scone that I have scoffed. I'm old and wobbly, too. Still, I feel like a young fella having seen the old guy in the bakery.
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