Friday, 9 December 2005

Food memories


There's something very weird about the way that food can remind you of a time or a place. Our croissant breakfast in Paris had exactly that effect on me.

We used to eat croissants at the weekend when we were little and lived in Portway House. This was pre-Atkins era obviously, and other breakfasts included porridge with cream and brown sugar, so you can see how everyone's metabolisms must've gone downhill since then. Anyway, our croissant breakfast would almost always consist of extra butter and marmalade and all four of us sitting round the pine kitchen table on those red Magistretti chairs with the wicker seats, and milk would always be full-fat and served in that white jug with the blue Dutch pattern.

This is when my name was Charlie or fish face or bootsy or charlie buttons or frog face, and we would inevitably be wearing a strange combination of nightwear with elements from the dressing-up box and probably wellies too.

Happy days.
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