Old Mother Hubbard and her doughnuts.
There were important social rules in 1950’s Great Britain. One was that you never ate in the street.
My friend Jeffery Davies walked by our house with his mother one morning. He was munching on an apple. My own mother was scornful. “What kind of mother”, she opined, “would allow her child to eat on the street?”
One day Mum and I, and probably my sister Elizabeth set out for the shops on Church Road, about ¾ mile away. I think that my Aunt Irene was with us too, but that is a dubious memory.
Mum, or Aunty Irene diverted us to one of the few remaining local bakeries “ Hubbard’s Bakery” on Whitehall Road. Mrs. Hubbard waited on customers, and of course, we each called her “Old Mother Hubbard”.
Mum bought some doughnuts. These were not the modern anemic ones such as you might purchase at Dunkin’ Donuts or the Supermarket.
They were doughnuts, not donuts. They were fried, crispy and sugary on the outside, hot on the inside, with jam which almost burned your tongue.
We diverted into a side street, “Albert Parade”. Mum reached into the bag and gave us a hot crispy doughnut to eat as we walked on the street!
Every doughnut I have eaten since then has paled in comparison. Never has there been a doughnut like the one Mum bought at “Old Mother Hubbards’”
Was the doughnut truly that wonderful? Or is the taste of memory better because Mum let us break the rules?
My friend Jeffery Davies walked by our house with his mother one morning. He was munching on an apple. My own mother was scornful. “What kind of mother”, she opined, “would allow her child to eat on the street?”
One day Mum and I, and probably my sister Elizabeth set out for the shops on Church Road, about ¾ mile away. I think that my Aunt Irene was with us too, but that is a dubious memory.
Mum, or Aunty Irene diverted us to one of the few remaining local bakeries “ Hubbard’s Bakery” on Whitehall Road. Mrs. Hubbard waited on customers, and of course, we each called her “Old Mother Hubbard”.
Mum bought some doughnuts. These were not the modern anemic ones such as you might purchase at Dunkin’ Donuts or the Supermarket.
They were doughnuts, not donuts. They were fried, crispy and sugary on the outside, hot on the inside, with jam which almost burned your tongue.
We diverted into a side street, “Albert Parade”. Mum reached into the bag and gave us a hot crispy doughnut to eat as we walked on the street!
Every doughnut I have eaten since then has paled in comparison. Never has there been a doughnut like the one Mum bought at “Old Mother Hubbards’”
Was the doughnut truly that wonderful? Or is the taste of memory better because Mum let us break the rules?
I can almost taste the doughnut, the way you describe it! Yum! :)
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, such a decadent treat would likely settle all too quickly around my middle (along with everything else that seems to be settling lately!).