In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made with al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.
This was not the cappuccino I had today. If you want excellent cappuccino like this, you need to get yourself to Attibassi Chichester and this baby is the standard.
Unlike the cappuccino I had at the establishment I was at this morning. The operator approached the milk frother like he was a junior doctor being handed a medical instrument he’d never seen before. I know I complain about excessive froth a lot but I didn’t really even get any froth this morning.
But enough of the middle class woes.
I’ve gotten into the habit of dragging myself out of my warm bed and meeting up with local home educating mothers in Chichester. It’s an impromptu sort of set up, nothing is set in stone and no one’s nose is put out of joint if the turn up is slim.
It was a good couple of hours, abundant on good positive and friendly interactions, with a smattering of cheeky impropriety courtesy of Spiker who is now my best fwend seeing that she is a career girl paid with real life currency, not just Monopoly money and chocolate coins.
The subject of my bakery, bakehouse, nom nom shop did pop up. I was finding myself more able to talk about it in finer details. The puzzle is slowly coming together, or at least I think I’ve managed to piece together what looks like the corner window of Hansel & Gretel’s gingerbread house. It’s amazing what a complex topic coffee is and I really hadn’t prepared myself to spending this much time deliberating on it.
So after all the swings and roundabouts and the violently swinging pendulum of pondering about something that I initially thought was an easy matter, I’ve come to some progress. I’m getting Attibassi of Chichester give me a crash course in the art of coffee making – sometime in between organising Whipped & Baked’s cupcake stall at Brighton Tattoo Convention, helping Izzy The Rockstar fill in his student loan form for his Jazz Music degree and trying not to break myself during roller derby training.
Oh, and building a bakery business funded by the content of a piggy bank while watching independent shops around me fold.
I am woman. Hear me roar.
In the laundry room.