Well. This is embarrassing.
When I asked you all if my response to a street sign meant I was a snob – it turns out that Ursula was right. Except for the “smart” part. It meant I’m an arse.
I blame Maxi for my humiliation. She encouraged me to find out the humiliating truth.
And Laurie can nod knowingly to herself. She sussed out the real picture from the beginning.
So… you remember that sign I was poking fun at for mispelling “daley bread”. You might recall my hoity toity pernickety I’m-not-buying-bread-there-they-can’t even-spell snobby attitude.
Yup, that sign.
Well. You’ll never guess the surname of the people who run the premises?
Mmm. Yes. They’re called Smith.
Phew. Thank goodness for that.
Following Maxi’s UNHELPFUL comment (“If it were me though, I would be in there tryin’ out the bread, would have to know”) I pushed open the door and had a chat to the friendly people behind the sandwich counter inside.
And the Daley’s (above) do make lovely sandwiches. Right again Ursula. Caramel squares. Mince slices. All to be highly recommended. (And not just because I feel so bad – and stupid – about my previous comments – they really are good.)
No humble pie on display, otherwise I would have taken a slice of that too.
I took a quick photo of THE DALEYS on my phone. They didn’t mind, but they were curious as to why I wanted the picture. I said it was for the internet, because of the name of their shop. But I felt too scundered to reveal the full reason. C’mon. The shop was busy. The prospect of this online shaming was bad enough without a live action preview. I will mention it though, sometime, now that I’ve apologised in front of you lot.
In other news. I’ve just made up a new kind of yoga. It involves a lot of this…