the croissant
When I popped into my local bakery for breakfast supplies, there were two young workmen ahead of me, all hi-vis and craving their morning caffeine.
A cup of tea was on it’s way for one of them, and my heart sank a little when the second ordered a coffee - it’s a bakery so their coffee-making is not exactly fast, which meant I was going to have to wait longer for my cheese and marmite danish. But, I digress.
As they were chatting, the younger of the two revealed that he had never had a croissant before; this was shocking news to all of us, and his friend - who had already ordered himself a pain au chocolat - offered to buy him one to try. For reasons that remain beyond me, the young lad turned it down.
The girl behind the counter was quiet through all of this, and made their drinks with a pensive look on her face. Once they were done, she picked up a paper bag, popped a croissant in it and handed it to the young lad as he was leaving.
“Here”, she said. “It’s a gift from me. So you know what a croissant is like.”
After they left, we exchanged a look of bemusement. How can you grow up never knowing what a croissant tastes like?
“Of course”, I pointed out, “you’ve ruined him now, because you make the best croissants in town.”
“What’s he going to think when he goes and buys one in the supermarket?!”
- mood
- amused