London Grip readers may remember Bernard Green’s previous reminiscences about his early life on the Surrey-Hampshire border. Here he returns with a new recollection – this time couched in verse…

BILL, THE BAKER
 
Bill Wilkinson was a strong, massive man.
He lived in a village called Badshot Lea
In a cottage of hand-made bricks, oak beams
Where he managed the village bakery.
 
Perhaps you thought the strongest man was the blacksmith
But flour sacks weighed two-twenty pounds (sometimes more)
I believe the much stronger man was the baker
Who dragged bags of flour to the upstairs floor
 
His huge mixing bowl held a whole sack of flour.
He’d a bin made of wood to prove the warm dough in.
Cottage loaves when proved, were placed in the oven
with a long oar-like pole while sandwich bread went in a tin
 
Each day, as he mixed up the dough, he lit the wood fire
the wood was so dry it burned with ferocious red heat
Then with brush and mop he swept up the ash
Scones cooked first, then the bread, then cakes as it cooled – very neat!
 
The bread tins went in upside down
This put flecks of ash in the crust, which was nice.
The proved loaf was turned over onto the paddle
Then onto the bricks, where a holly-sprig added some spice.
 
I would collect twelve loaves of bread on my bike
Balanced on the handlebars and brakes
Chewing, while pedalling, round the crispy crusts
That birch ash was tastier to me than cakes!
 
One day I was watching Bill mix the dough
Stripped to the waist, bent over the bin
Sweat running from all over his body
and dripping from his arms and his chin.
 
I was only eleven years of age, but I said
“Bill your sweat is going in the dough.”
He laughed, but didn’t bother to wipe his brow
“Yes, it’s salt, it makes it taste better you know.”
 
This is a true story from 1946. The village of Badshot Lea is in Hampshire and the baker’s name 

was William Wilkinson.  The oven has been demolished but the house is still there.