And yet again – no scones.
The venue was the bookshop at Brierlow Bar and though Julia looked carefully, she could see no scones.
She did, however, buy two slices of glistening home-made cake. It looked sumptuous. And delicious. And once again I had to relearn that tough life lesson that looks can be deceptive.
As you may have noticed, I’m not the cheeriest or most modern of people and I am suspicious of change. I’m still not fully convinced that the bookshop needed a cafe, or that a crowd of people and dogs is of benefit to a bookshop with narrow passageways. I’m almost certain that anyone who parks a pram in a gangway, so that fat men with walking sticks nearly fall over getting past, should be prosecuted by social services and their children put into a gloomy gothic orphanage.
In a way it’s a shame I didn’t fall as the combination of damp floor and blocked gangway is a dream for an ambulance chasing lawyer.
Much as I despise the current compensation culture it would be fun to sue and make a few cogent comments to the court about people running cafes in a space that should be filled with books.
I’m not sure whether I would then give the money to Julia for a new polytunnel or burn it on You Tube just to prove a point. (The point being that the money wasn’t important, not that I am stupid).
Good in Parts
Anyway, back to the cake. It was apricot and some sort of nut. Julia was in “Bear of Very Little Brain” mode and forgot the details on the way from counter to table. You’d have thought she’d have been brighter after an hour and a quarter of top flight conversation with me in the car, but apparantly not.
It tasted a bit like walnut, but there was definitely a large identifiable piece of cashew in there too.
I said: “Cashew!”
Julia said: “Bless you.”
After you’ve been married 30 years this is what passes for humour.
It was confusing cake because some of it tasted of ginger too. The top, where the glaze had soaked in, was nice and moist, but the lower two thirds was dry and quickly reverted to crumbs. Fortunately we had cake forks to deal with this problem.
Appearances can be deceptive
To sum up, and to put my personal bias to one side, the tea was good, as it always is (made with proper leaves and a strainer), the ambience is getting better as they sort things out, the cake could have been better, but even that wasn’t too bad, and the book stock seems to have improved.
I’m actually quite impressed with what they have done at Brierlow Bar, despite my resistance to the 21st Century.
I much prefer leaf tea and find it no more difficult to deal with than tea bags. Richard prefers tea bags as he thinks that they are easier to deal with but would much rather have coffee anyway.
I am pleased to read that the book stock has improved. I will put the bookshop back on the places to visit when we are at Leek again in August. I cannot quite understand why we have to have so many cafés in all kinds of shops except that they are money spinners and shops have to diversify if they are to keep open. If the book selection was better there would be no need for a café.
All wise words. To be honest, I’d put a cafe in the shop if it secured my job for the next seven years. I suppose bookshops have to compete with Amazon.
🙂
Dry cake is always a bitter disappointment. Either the cake has been around too long or it was overbaked. Onward, ho to the next cake.
There is always the next cake…
And hope springs ever eternal…
🙂
I really liked Julia’s joke
Somehow I’m not surprised. 🙂
🙂
I keep threatening to buy leaf tea but never do!
Leaf tea is like virtue – good idea but hard work. 🙂
Good heavens, I am stunned by your magnanimity. A man who can allow his mind to be changed is a rare jewel in a gloomy world.
Sometimes a good cup of tea will work magic…
A good cup of tea, is acknowledged to be
a famous restorer in sadness.
It quickens life’s flame, and enlivens the frame
and imparts a spirit of gladness!
– unknown author
Great Quote!