Bakewell Tarts v Worksop tarts

life just isn’t fair sometimes, is it? As Lady Grundi and I found out on Saturday.

After a lengthy spell at the mechanics following a scrap with a Sparken Hill pothole to rival the Grand Canyon, the Bentley was back on the drive.

So what better way to reacquaint oneself with the old girl than a leisurely waft over the winding lanes of the Peaks to the world famous town of Bakewell?

Well, we couldn’t think of a better way, actually, so off we popped in the grey and murky drizzle in hope of a land of plenty.

And stone-the-crows did we find it: sweet shops, pie shops, cake shops, coffee shops - you name it, Bakewell has a cosy little shop that sells it.

But it got me to thinking: why didn’t Worksop end up a town of thronging streets and bustling shopping arcades?

We were even stopped by a well-to-do American couple who asked ‘are you local’? To which we replied a very polite ‘if only’.

Of course, there is absolutely no need to ask a Worksop ‘local’ if they’re from ‘raaahnd ‘ere’ because you can tell by the over-sized skull and bad teeth.

But that really doesn’t answer my question as to how Bakewell flourished like a rose in a pile of dung, while Worksop just got the dung?

It can’t be because of the high profile of the tarts in Bakewell. There is absolutely no way their tarts are better than ours. Of course they say the proof is in the pudding and the fact that all of our tarts walk around with prams and pushchairs show that somebody loved ‘em at some point, even if it was out the back of one of Worksop’s premier nightspots.

So how then can a town 40 miles away charge £4 for a solitary cake, whilst the same said outlay in Worksop could get you a trolley full of snap to feed your brood for a week?

I have to say, though, that Bakewell Tart was amongst the most scrumptious morsels I’ve ever had the privilege to masticate upon in my life.

But what gastronomic delight would have them flocking to our fair town from far and wide?

A ploughman’s bap from Cooplands (they’re very good, by the way), a Greggs sausage roll, a side of Banks’ Beef (call me to arrange the free rib of beef), the Parish Oven’s steak pie and chips – and of course the wonderful offerings coming out of Welbeck’s School of Artisan food.

The list goes on...can you tell I’m starving because of Lent?