Fortnum & Masons. The pastry was still crusty.

Imagine my despair when last in London, after a special trip to Fortnum's, to find they were sold out.

Then there was the daily pilgrimage to Messrs. Craske's, Pork Butchers of Little London Street, Norwich, whenever visiting parents. My daughter accompanied me once, and she still recalls the happy feelings engendered by stuffing one's face with pie at 10 in the morning while walking down Little London Street.

I blame my father. He used to get his supplies from Musk's of Newmarket - pork pies and sausages. Spoilt me for the commercial offerings.

When will these heathens learn that the stuff they call "fat" is simply gelatin injected to keep the pastry from sagging on to the pork? Heathens. What else to expect from persons who like cake for breakfast?