When I arrived in this country as a student in the 1970s (sheesh….) I had rarely had to cut my own bread. Suddenly it needed to be an everyday occurrence if the dreaded Mother’s Pride in its sweaty, plastic wrapper was to be avoided. I did some baby-sitting for some American friends and that first year, for Christmas, they gave me this bread board.
When the board was new it had lovely burnt-on drawings of oak leaves all around the outside edge as the board is made of that wood and of a very pleasing weight. The drawings have all been scrubbed off years ago now but the board is still in fine shape. Well-tempered. Not at all warped. Made to literally last a life time.
We can only hope to be the same. Covered in scars from everyday life but still in daily service and very much fit for purpose.
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