Early March 2018 Homebaked’s news is:
“We are delighted to announce we won 3 GOLD, 3 SILVER & 2 BRONZE medals @. Well done to all our team of staff & volunteers who have worked so hard to make this happen #“
Well done then, everyone who has ever worked in Homebaked, and looking back here on the match-day when the bakery fully opened back in October2013. Not so very long ago.
Today’s post is a total celebration, of something wholly good, that’s happened today in Anfield.
These have been tough years for Anfield and Everton.
Because whatever you think of how it’s been done, new houses are being completed and new people are arriving. And the community of people who’ve stuck with their beloved place are gradually becoming a bigger and newer community.
Because while many major football clubs have been leaving their inner-city homegrounds, this one, Liverpool FC, after much prevarication, has decided to stay.
Today they’re playing West Bromwich Albion, and the crowds are gathering.
I arrive a couple of hours before the match kicks off and it’s already busy.
Inside I meet my old friend Robin Lawler.
And for the next half an hour or more we sit and talk. Catching up with each other’s lives, our memories of both working around here for Liverpool Housing Trust in the early 1980s, and our joy at being sat here, in the dreamed of ‘Homebaked’ today.
When Robin goes off to take his seat in the Kop, I get my camera back out to record this wonderful day.
Next, a couple of arty photos, after all this place has some of its roots in art, through Liverpool Biennial.
Earlier on, while I was inside the shop, a different customer had turned from the counter, looked down in delight at his purchase, and said to me ‘Now THAT is a fucking pie!’
No, I didn’t eat them all at once. In fact the loaves are next to me now as I type. Politely suggesting I might like a buttie after all this work?
The street empties and, despite the presence of 42,000 people in the ground, over here everything goes quiet and emotional.
You no longer need to get your drinks, as this fading writing suggests, from a ‘machine round the corner’