More evidence that Fran isn't the one doing the shopping
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhCM2o2ulOgIjGvxVaTf4mVDT_s7rMk3eToAW-2C_KCmre_nQmuoFxddR2uyJnRXj8hbahoLfz1iU44179yg52PGs8H1pBDuuf3-kyGtoAfb0WrAW9xtUdP86v6S2vsPlbVz35bn7uzAbP/s320/black+bread.jpg)
Further to this recent post about odd-coloured food I have more to report. My husband brought THIS home. Here is the conversation we had about it. Me: What be this abomination, my master? Please remove it from my scullery or I will cave in your head with my chopping block. Him: It be charcoal bread, my love. Me: It can be charcoal, my master. Or it can be bread. It cannot be both of those things, or I am not a wench. Him: Would your pretty mouth like a taste of it, my love? I will tear you off a piece and layer it with fresh butter from our dairy cow. Me: I would like nothing less, master. In fact, I would rather eat my own ear wax than consider it. Him: Then I will have to feast on it myself which I am pleased to do. Me: From whence did you purchase it and how many pennies did it cost thee? Him: It cost three hundred and fifty pennies, my dearest. Me: THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY? Have you been eating of the mushrooms underneath the old elm, my master? Or quaffi