As an English Pud-Hog driving on American roads, it can sometimes be confusing to stay on the right-hand side.
For eight days, however, I’d been managing pretty well – until we spotted The Donut Shop.
Having heard about his long-established Natchez institution online, I almost performed an emergency stop right there and then. Instead I kept my cool long enough to turn the car around – and suddenly found myself on the wrong side of the road.
As cars zoomed towards us I could think of one thing and one thing only:
Must – try – DONUT.
And so I sped up.
It was reckless, Ogglers, I know, but I can’t say I regret it. I’m still here, after all (no one even had to swerve) – and the Donuts were well worth a near-death experience.
The range alone was staggering: rows and rows of what looked like every variety – most of which would have dwarfed your average puppy.
However, having recently digested lunch (in the skirts of Mammy’s Cupboard no less), the Man and I shied away from the bulkier items, settling on something smaller (but hardly small): a knobbly homemade Fritter.
It had Apple. It had Cinnamon. It was glazed.
And it was glorious.
So fresh it was still warm (and impressively non-greasy), the two of us ripped through it in record time – and found ourselves tempted to buy a few more.
After all, at a bargain 91 cents for one, we could have probably filled our cases with Donuts and still had plenty of money left over.
We didn’t though, Ogglers – somehow, infusing our luggage with sweet treats destined for staleness didn’t seem like the best idea at the time.
Then again, speeding along the wrong side of the road probably wasn’t my brightest plan either.
Hmm. I guess you never can tell…