The flour dusting on the top of the soft white bread rolls took me back to Yellowcraig campsite.
My memories of these childhood holidays are all outside, outside the shop waiting for the bakery delivery in the morning. The seemingly long walk to the beach, both sandy and rocky, and with Fidra on the horizon. Off to the right, a pine wood with trees to climb in. The ruined castle at Dirleton, stones gritty and hot and irresistibly climable. Chip shop chips on the long rocky spit at North Berwick, by the open air pool.
A whole wealth of memories from something so simple as a bread roll.
Awake August facebook page here
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