Bear goes to the Bakery

Yesterday was pretty busy.

It was decided that our guests would have an early lunch and leave about midday so while I was busy making quiches I asked Bear if he would go and get some bread.

He wrote out his list in a mixture of English and  phonetically spelled French and then I added ‘levure de boulanger’ (yeast) as I wanted to make some hot cross buns.

He came back and left  the bag on the table.

“Were you able to make yourself understood?”

“Yes, she took the list out of my hand and just queried the sliced bread.”

It was some time before I investigated the fruits of Bear’s shopping foray and, what a surprise, the contents were not exactly the same as my list.

I’d asked for a ‘pain’ – a large, thick baguette, but there was a small ‘ficelle’ instead.

briocheThe baquette briochée was there, and the yeast – and even the sliced round loaf but there was also a bag of croissants and viennese pastries.

“Did you ask for these?” I inquired.

Bear insisted that he hadn’t so I thought I’d better ring the baker and find out if he’d brought something belonging to another customer.

The new telephone directory came last week and I needed that to find the number as the boulangerie only opened a few months ago.

Where was it? No-one knew. So I tried pages jaunes on the internet – and it still didn’t come up.

Eventually Bear unearthed the directory still tightly enveloped in its plastic covering. He turned the pages very slowly and carefully.

“Please – can I find it?”

“No, you let the last directory get torn. You’re not getting your hands on this one.”

“OK, but I would like to phone them sometime this morning.”

Eventually he found ‘boulangeries’ in the yellow pages but they weren’t mentioned. Then he took for ever to find our village (French Phone directories are arranged by town or village so if you don’t know where someone lives you’re in trouble) and then didn’t know whether it would be under their name – Demarez –  or  B for boulangerie.

“Can’t I have a look?”  I pleaded.

“No!” he clasped the book tightly to his chest.

At long last, he read out the number and I dialled it.

viennoiseriesIt transpired that he had bought a bag of viennoiseries although it’s hard to see how anyone could have read that on his shopping list and he still maintains that he didn’t ask for them.

Looks as though I’ll have to do my own shopping in future.


4 Responses to “Bear goes to the Bakery”

  1. Little old me Says:

    I never send my hubby shops alone, we would end-up with treats and nothing else

    That’s so true. It’s like having a child with you, going round a supermarket with Bear.

  2. Keith Says:

    He’s obviously not so daft as what tinkle peep he is! (Sorry, just got back from the pub!) I’ll say that again.

    He’s obviously dot so naft as what peeple think he is!

    Oh, HELL!

    You sounded nitty prormal on the phone. Thanks for the pics.

  3. Almost American Says:

    He wouldn’t let you look the number up yourself? What a control freak! I’m surprised he didn’t give you the wrong number so you wouldn’t find out that he had in fact requested the pastries himself! Do I sound cynical? Well, that’s because I am! You are a saint Sandy!

  4. Sophie et Chady Says:

    Hahaha the croissants episode!!! Well done Bear!!!
    Think he should have eaten them before you noticed though 🙂

    It could have been a communication problem. Bear claims he picked up the bag of goodies and asked if it was his. The boulangere reckons he asked if he could buy them. I think they were both right. They just didn’t understand one another.

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