When I was just a kid living in a small country town there was no money to spend on take away food. Anyway it was just after WW2 and there was no such thing as a take away place, not in our town anyway.

You can imagine my absolute amazement when my dad was transferred to a place called Cronulla. Three great surf beaches within walking distance of our house, and public tidal salt water swimming pools galore.

Suddenly I became a beach boy, no silly, not a singer, but a ten year old surfie, of sorts.

Then, joy oh joy, I was introduced by my beach going mates to apple pies with cream. There was a take away bakery in the main street, just a short walk from the beach that had all these fresh beauties on the shelf, ready for the application of lashings of fresh cream at customer request.

I can’t remember how much they cost but I can certainly, vividly, remember how wonderful they tasted.

Our little mob would buy one each and have them completely gobbled up by the time we got back to our spot on the promenade outside the surf club building.  Then it was a quick dash into the surf, catch a few waves and back on the promenade to dry off, minus the crumbs and spots of cream from the pies that had been stuck to our little chests and bellies.

How I miss those carefree days in the sun and surf. It lasted for another thirty years. The original pie shop disappeared, to be replaced by two or three more, all competing for our business.  Our gobbling eating habits remained the same and the ritual swim to get rid of the evidence on our skin remained a constant.

Now I ride a motor bike instead of swim and live hundreds of miles from the surf. However, all is not lost, we have two great bakeries in town, both sell apple pies with fresh cream. As I’m sure you will realise, it’s most unwise to ride a motor bike and eat an apple pie with cream at the same time. Remedy, sit on the bike at the kerb, watch the passing parade, gobble down the pie and cream, flick the pie crumbs into the gutter, wipe the cream off the leathers, then lick it off your fingers, put the gloves and helmet back on and quickly ride home for a quick wash. The bike that is.

At seventy five years of age you’d think I had more sense, but an apple pie and cream, what would life be like without one. In fact I think I’ll go and get one right now. Hoo roo.