Our baker is the strangest baker on this planet; his brötchen never taste the same, nor do they ever look the same. One day, they’re almost burnt, the next day, they’re white as a geisha. When you buy them, you never know whether they’re crispy outside and airy and light inside or deplorably squashy inside and out, you never know if you will enjoy your breakfast or not. Why that is, we have never found out. It seems as if the only consistency in his life was being inconsistent. The same goes for his bread by the way. He’s consistently inconsistent here, too. I hate reliable people, I really do.