Do you remember The Fields Beneath? They continue to please me. I feel very lucky that my very first local is both awesome and earnest. It is still kind of a shock to go from living in the plain yoghurt suburbs to a place that is within easy walking distance of so many interesting things.
Now, these are nothing so commonplace as cinnamon buns. They are Grafton buns. You may expect a pillowy roll lined with an innocent layer of sugar. What you will get is something so weighted with dark spice that is becomes immediately clear to you that the bun is merely a vehicle for indecent levels of cinnamon. Carelessly wolfing it down is an impossibility; the crumb is so densely fudge-like and richly aromatic that you have to consider each bite. It is not for the faint-hearted.
I rather wish I had one now. The snow is encouraging my current indolence and a grafton bun would at least be something to work on. It is hard to believe that last year I was scrubbing and painting sheds in the ice and snow; now I am bundled up on the sofa listening to Chopin’s nocturnes. I don’t really know anything about music, despite having had piano lessons for about 8 years, but I do know I prefer to listen to and play melancholy music. I don’t know why.
So we don’t end on a down note, this little series of comics about Chopin and Liszt makes me ugly-laugh.