Out bright and early in the morning sunshine and soon fairly leaping along the cobbles towards Cheapside. I might pay less if I can find what I want there I think but keep going anyway. I go past Milk Street and Bread Street and know then that I am in the right area even if there is no Pie Street to be found. I swerve suddenly to avoid the contents of a pail of slops which come hurtling out of a high window to my left. Then I start to search.
Soon I find the stalls and little shops that sell pastries and pies along with bread from the street adjacent. I look for the crusty ones that are a dark, rich brown in colour as I know well those that my mother bakes look that way and are tasty and wholesome. I find a long flat stall with a rich assortment of pastries, supervised by a man of very sh
