Pastie and milk, lunch fit for a king.We've pulled into a small roadside town on the hunt for some sweet pastry items, unfortunately nothing tempted us so we both went savoury. The pasties warm and flaky, dry against my lips, and the filling wholesome and tasty; not wet enough to run out as I'm driving. In contrast the milk I carefully pierced with a straw is going everywhere. It's miserable outside again, stormy off and on and the van smells of mud as well as our food. We were cold running into the hot bakery and out again but it's warm here out of the wind. The milk's freezing against my always sensitive but wholesome because it's actually good for me. Still they sting, I've given up eating ice cream altogether.
