Behind every door…

Back in the day, pre lives being invaded by tiny humans, we lived it up in London. The big smoke. We went out on Saturday nights. Most Saturday nights. And Fridays. And lo, Thursdays. A ‘school’ night. We went out and there wasn’t a babychino or 3 on the order. We’d bar crawl Covent Garden, or Soho. Frequenting the hip night spots. Ok so Strawberry Moons and Infernos, hmmm, maybe not so cool. The really cool kids knew all about the hidden away gems of bars. Just a door. Maybe a tiny discreet sign. Somewhat more subtle and way ‘cooler’ than the likes of Vodka Revs or O’Neills. And if you knew about the ‘secret’ bars, the ones where you would linger until a door was opened if you were deemed ‘cool’ enough or saying the correct secret phrase to member of staff somewhere, then you were off the hip-ness scale.

Fast forward to life as a thirty something mum of three and I’ve found the equivalent. Ok not equivalent but one of those hidden gems that make you smug you found it despite it being practically invisible to the naked eye. A secret door, hiding a gem of a place. So…this one doesn’t sell cocktails, but it sells baked goods. And they don’t cause hangovers. Even better.

I’ll let you into my cool mum with baked goods club…..Hoxton Bakehouse.


A tiny metal door, on a little trading estate, next to the railway lines in Southampton. We drove past it, walked passed it, and only found it when super sleuth Mr G drew on all his Sherlock experience to note the pile of bakery trays outside the door. Only open to the public on Saturday mornings, the Hoxton Bakehouse sell their amazing baked goods direct from their bakery behind this tiny unassuming door. J loved seeing the bakers at work, the giant mound of flour bags and the huge bakery ovens. He loves baked goods, eating and making, almost as much as me! This morning we picked up a white sourdough loaf, a tea loaf, some of the most amazing cinnamon buns imaginable and the last berry frangipane tart and headed home for a feast for our Saturday brunch.

Obviously first there was a near meltdown from the 4 year old boy who was insisting that nobody was allowed to eat ANYTHING on the way home. We MUST wait until we got back to the house. He knows his dad well. 3 bags of baked goods can disappear mighty quick with Mr G around.


I think I’ve found my most favorite door ever. Best baked goods ever. If you want to be as cool as me, go. Ok, so it won’t make you cool. I’m not cool. But it will make you happy. ‘Cos baked goods make people happy.







2 thoughts on “Behind every door…

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