Ever since I was young, Papa and Mama had never failed to provide the fundamental regular needs for our breakfast, which is the bread.
I remember being neurotic one day when there weren't any one of those on the table for us to eat,
and I also remember Mama's theory on why brother is tall; it's because he eats the bread every day.
Try to explain me. lol
Back then when I was younger, the ubiquitous Indian bread man would ride his motorcycle and shrill the air horn 'pon!....pon!....pon!'.
It was music to any child's ear and with immediate reaction I would alert Mama and quickly haste out from the door and shout "Uncle, Uncle, Sini (here), Sini (here)". :)
He would then turn towards my direction and park where I stood. Mama would usually give me the freedom to choose the kind of bread I want for breakfast or tea-time for the following day.
Now that I'm living alone, buying bread on my own seems costly.
I've recently discovered a brand new bread that I love but I can't buy it in short intervals any more as it'll burn a hole in my pocket. Ouch.
misses eating bread with butter