buns

I loved everything about Oldton when I stayed there as a child, but most of all when the horse drawn baker’s van would appear in the narrow cobbled street. I can still smell it today and hear my aunt laughing and talking to the baker man. And me waiting with bated breath, hoping, hoping she would buy the large paris bun I loved. It seemed as big as my hand, a mound of delicious soft cake with deep cracks, crusted on top with sugar strands as large as the smallest hailstones. The joy of my teeth sinking deeply into this childhood feast. Who needed ‘Paris in Springtime’ when I had my bun of delight from the quaint baker’s van in the town I so loved.

Margot Hook