A couple of weeks ago we were trundling along the Puglia coast and decided to pull up by the sea for lunch. And that was the last time either of us saw the cutting board (we are both of the pre-slice bread age and therefore tend to call them all “breadboards”). It was a good breadboard - actually it was one of those square things with a short handle you use to take pizzas out of the oven - made of bamboo, and bought in a French hypermarket after a bit of searching and quailing at the high prices asked for the pine or beech versions. The disappearance was noticed that evening when dinner preparations were about to begin and, after a thorough search of every box, bag and nook and cranny in the car, we
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