i’d thought that posting my $70 grocery receipt was an invitation for admonishment or ridicule, but no. well, perhaps there was some eye-rolling at your screens, or mutters of “why don’t you give that money to me instead?” that i don’t know about. still, i was touched by the outward show of support and understanding of my spendthriftiness. which is how i found myself back at the very same emporium, with deborah, attending a short presentation on how to increase our energy.

it amounted to the instore nutritionist sitting at a small table reading a short essay off a sheet of paper, while showing us a variety of grains, legumes and other healthy things that would help with the necessary nutrients. there was a brief and awkward pause while a girl’s baby choked on a mouthful of apple, and then there was question time, during which another girl asked what effect on her blood sugar it would have, to put four or five spoons of sugar in her cup of tea.

but of course, the food tour was just an excuse (for me anyway) to trawl the aisles of wonder once again. it was enough fun just to look, and think about buying the box of inca red quinoa, or the carton of italian chocolate cornflakes — it had a lovely illustration of a monkey on it. in a fit of restraint, i bought just a loaf of bread (sprouted rye and spelt, with a whiff of caraway), and a piece of cheese (organic parmesan).

that morning, it had rained until just before the kid and i left the house, paused for the ten minutes it took for us to walk up the hill, and then resumed. and then it stopped again. and started again, harder. it was all right for maeve, under plastic, but i was quite sodden when we pulled up outside the store. and so after the morning lesson and the circuit round the shop, when we looked out the windows to see that it was pelting down again, we thought it was best that we sit down to something to eat.

hurray!

before too long we were all perched on the shiny white stools at the counter. “babycino!” yelled the kid, as the miniature paper cup approached. and then coffee and hot chocolate and deb’s enormous stack of brown flour pancakes with marscarpone, maple syrup and strawberries — how’s that for healthy and decadent — and a great platter of smoked salmon, brie and dill omelette with thick slices of wholegrain sourdough for maeve and me. we tried our hardest to eat everything, and then we surrendered and went across the road to the common ground bakery.

“ah,” deb had said earlier, as we stood in the bread aisle, debating, “that is the bakery where the men all have beards [an anagram of ‘breads’!] and all the girls have long hair.”

it is true. the girls also wear long skirts, and blouses of flower print. such a girl, behind the counter, talked up the maté latte, and sold me a loaf of mountain berry bread. the same bread is sold back across the road at about life, but when you buy it at the bakery, it comes with a festive sprinkle of flaked almonds.

contrary to its name, it is packed with plump raisins, dates apricots and walnuts. it has a sugary glaze and an aura of brandy. these bearded men and long-haired lasses, they sure know how to have a good time.