Ive shelves on the wall bulging with piping hot loaves, barm cakes, shropshire knots, bloomers and fresh breads of every description.
The cake counter is full to the brim too, there are tarts, creamcakes, shoe horns, fresh french fruit tarts, biscuits, lemon drizzle cakes, old betty is just bringing out the trays of freshly baked pies and pasties that she lovingly stacks in the warm display counter.
Its freezing outside, their is a stir inside the bakery, on go the soft dispaly lights, the closed sign is turned over to open, the door is opened and a wedge stuck behind the door.
A great waft of fresh bread perfume charges from the confines of the shop to grab the attention of the first straggle of early morning commuters.
What can I get you?