I go to the baker's at peak time just to see faces and hear chatter | Food

Fri 5 Mar 2021 05.00 EST
The first visible, sniffable, glorious bursts of spring make the final straight of lockdown agonising. Perhaps, like me, you carry from childhood an inner voice that says pleasant weather must not be wasted. As kids, on sunny March mornings, my brothers and I lived in semi-terror of our mother rumbling up the stairs into our rooms with seize-the-day vigour.
This rarely involved a motion to lounge about eating Sherbet Dip Dabs and watching Tiswas. No, but it could involve being stuffed into an Austin Maxi and whisked to the Solway Coast to paddle in rock pools close to the Sellafield nuclear reactor, before sharing a pork pie brought from home and featuring a terrifying, greying boiled egg suspended in jelly. Or “potted meat” spread into sliced baps, though from which specific animal this peppery mush came remained a mystery. Importantly, it was drummed into us from the outset that a warm, bright day should be used, even if that involved a four-hour round trip to a discount furniture warehouse with a kids’ zip-slide in the forecourt. At least there was the chance of a Slush Puppie.

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