I have a soft spot for the almond croissant. Wanda’s in Toronto has my vote for the best one I’ve tried (I like to think of myself as an expert), but this one is a close contender. It was buttery and flaky, a soothing oven-warmed confection for my sore throat.
As I wind down my stay in England, I thought I’d make the best of my remaining time by taking a bit of a country break. It was only yesterday that I was on a train back from Norwich, having visited my lovely friend Becca at the University of East Anglia. I didn’t get too long in the city, but I did get a good breakfast.
On Wednesday I took the train up from London, unsure as to whether I’d ever make it past the darkness to campus. I guess it has been a long time since I’ve seen rolling fields. Because the Literary Festival was on, we saw the unshakeably spirited historian (and former Madame Harold Pinter) Antonia Fraser speak before I fell into a deep sleep on my blow-up mattress. The next day I awoke to the very pleasant thought of breakfast in town at Frank’s bar. It was exactly the sort of breakfast joint I’d been looking for—thoroughly-thumbed books on the shelf, board games for the bored, and one very good, milky latte.