Today’s prompt: Today, be inspired by a favorite childhood meal. For the twist, focus on infusing the post with your unique voice.

One-and-a-half Penny Bags!

We rushed down the stairs to the cloakroom, slipped off our plimsolls, pulled on our boots, grabbed our coats, and burst out of the warm school building into the freezing, foggy evening. Satchels in one hand, and our free hands clasped together, as we both shouted the magic words in unison, ‘One-and-a-half penny bag!’

Geraldine played in the netball team. She was taller and stronger than me, so I struggled to keep up with her long, powerful strides. Minutes later, two breathless, hungry girls pushed open the heavy glass door, and tripped into the warm, sweet-smelling bakery.

We were greeted with a cheerful, ‘Just on time girls! I was about to wrap up,’ while our eyes greedily scanned the scanty leftovers on the trays.

‘How many bags is it going to be today, my darlings?’ She smiled.

We looked at each other expectantly. I pursed my lips and cocked my head. ‘Just one, today!” Geraldine screamed as she pressed the two bronze coins on the counter. The shop-assistant shoved bits and pieces of broken cakes into a small paper bag and dropped it into her eager hands.

We screamed, ‘Thank you!’ just before rushing back out into the chilly street.

We sat on a bench in the nearby park, by the bus stop, and stuffed ourselves with morsels of jam doughnut, fruit cake, bits of chocolate éclairs, and lemon meringue pie, which seemed to us to be the most delicious meal we had ever tasted.

Our hands plunged into the bag squeezing the exquisite mixture between our fingers and into our ravenous mouths. We made sure all the crumbs were scratched out of the crumpled bag, and licked off our grateful fingers.

End of today’s post

I shortened this post following a suggestion made by helenyoungmidwife, why don’t you check out her entry?

Click here if you’d like to read some of the other entries.

Sometimes we had one bag, other times two, but we could never get enough! Those unforgettable events occurred on many Fridays, after school, forty-four years ago, and to this day I have still to taste a more delicious meal, or share it with a more boisterous and loveable friend.

I lost touch with Geraldine a year later, when she moved to Ireland with her family. I have shared many, more expensive, and more lavish meals since then, but none as memorable. I still miss her…