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Fresh Bread

Baker's Cart
Baker’s Cart

Our bread came in a cart, fresh from the bakery. This isn’t a photo of the actual cart but it’s a dead ringer.

The Bakery was a family business and the daughter would drive the cart. How I admired her! She’d lightly jump, both feet landing on the ground, and open the back door of her cart. The smell of bread would rush out, overpowering everyone within 3 blocks.

The mothers in the street would come out and choose a loaf.

Somedays we’d run out of bread and I’d be sent up to the bakery to buy a ‘High Tin’. Heaven! I’d carry the bread home in a paper bag, nibbling the crust all the way, slowing my feet as I neared our house so I could get that extra bit of warm, steamy bread. It was well worth getting a scolding for.

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1950s food Auntie Bella Auntie Jessie Auntie Nell Dad local geoography Mary Irwin Mum neighbours Uncle Ernie Uncle Frank

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