Title: The real meaning of hot cross buns
by Claire from London | in writing, fiction
Two young women stack stationary on the shelves in the Post Office. They half face the camera, and they stand side by side, alternately picking up packets of paper and stacking them so you can only see one at a time. Their speech is punctuated with pauses as they put the paper onto the shelves, and breaks in rhythm as they bend down. They are wearing jeans and coloured tops, with Post Office badges. Both girls are about 17-18 years old. Girl 1 is taller and larger than Girl 2, and has long brown hair tied back severely from her head. Girl 2 is smaller, and more mousey looking. She has blonde hair and a slight squint. Girl 1 has a more self confident demeanour, and slightly too-tight jeans on. They have London accents, not too pronounced.
Girl 1: You know what?
Girl 2: Nah, what?
[Pause]
Girl 1: You know what?
Girl 2: Nah, what?
Girl 1: I really love 'ot cross buns, I do.
Girl 2: Do ya?
Girl 1: Yeah, they're great.
Girl 2: I like them too.
Girl 1: [smiling slightly] Ah but you don't appreciate them properly, innit?
Girl 2: [indignant] I do!
Girl 1: No you don't. Nobody does.
Girl 2: How come?
Girl 1: Well, they stock them in Tesco, 99p for 6 all year round.
Girl 2: Yeah, so more people appreciate them.
Girl 1: [philosophically, quite slowly] No though, cause people don't understand the real meaning of 'ot cross buns, yeah.
[Pause]
Girl 1: If you only sell them at Easter they're really appreciated.
Girl 2: I suppose so...
[Pause]
Girl 1: You know what?
Girl 2: What?
Girl 1: I really do love 'ot cross buns.
In the Post Office one day, I overheard somebody talking about hot cross buns. This is a short philosophical insight into the ethics and intrinsic value of hot cross buns, regardless of what price sticker Tesco slaps onto them.
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