7 Pennygate, Fiddlewick

Comein,mindthestep

We are the blue door between the launderette and the bus stop, under the scalloped awning. There is no car park, there is a bench, and there is usually a terrier on it.

Bus 44 stops outside · the 9.20 from Marlock gets you here while the buns are still warm

The Wobbly Whisk

Whenweareopen

  • MondayShut. Nan Peg does the jam and the books.
  • Tuesday7am – 4pm
  • Wednesday7am – 4pm
  • Thursday7am – 4pm
  • Friday7am – 5pm · iced fingers from 11
  • Saturday7am – 2pm, or until the shelves are bare
  • SundayShut, but the van still goes out for pre-ordered cakes.

Bank holidays we open at eight and shut at noon. If the door is open we are serving, whatever the sign says.

Whatisonthecounterthisweek

Two of the small things that go first. Both are in the case now, both are under a tenner, neither needs ordering.

Saturday Iced Fingers — in the case today

£8

Saturday Iced Fingers

Only on Saturdays, only until they go, iced by whoever is nearest the tray.

Box of 6 or 12

In the case today

Order this one
Blueberry Morning Buns — only 4 bags left

£7

Blueberry Morning Buns

Soft, glazed, full of blueberries. Meant for toasting, eaten cold off the rack by Dot.

Bag of 6

Only 4 bags left

Order this one
Cinnamon swirls and sugared buns on the board behind the counter
Half past seven on a Friday, before anything has been put in the case. Behind it is the window seat: two stools, one bench, and the only table in Fiddlewick that does not wobble — which Nan Peg considers a design fault.

The blue van

Fivemiles,fourpounds,twohours

Dot drives, Crumb navigates badly, and the cake is strapped to a board in the back. We go out Tuesday to Saturday between nine and one, and you get a two-hour window by telephone the evening before.

Inside five miles

£4 — Fiddlewick, Marlock, Harrow Fold, Pennywell, the Green

Five to twelve miles

£9 — Saturdays only, and we need three days

Further than that

We will say no, kindly. A cake on a motorway is a sad cake.

Reg. FDW 44. One cake board, four ratchet straps and a towel. Dot rings the evening before with a two-hour window and she has missed it twice in four years, both times because of the level crossing at Harrow Fold. If nobody is in, the cake comes back to the shop and waits for you — it never gets left on a step, in a porch, or with a neighbour you have not named.

“People say it looks like a picture book. It looks like a bakery. Everybody else changed.”

Nan Peg, 2026

Sixty-twoyearsofleaningcakes

Margaret Pegg — Nan Peg to everybody under seventy — took the lease on 7 Pennygate in 1964 because the rent was eleven shillings and the oven came with it. The oven is still here. So, more or less, is she.

Her granddaughter Dot turned up in 2019 for a fortnight's work experience and has not left. She does the ordering, the driving, the book, and all of the talking. Nan Peg does the baking and the disapproving.

Crumb came out of a cardboard box behind the launderette in 2021 and has appointed himself to the counter. He is not allowed past the gate. He gets past the gate.

Nothing here has been modernised on purpose. The case is the original. The scales are her mother's. The ribbon is the same ribbon, from the same haberdasher on Marlock Road, who is also shut on Mondays.

Worththebus,wethink

If you are coming for something in particular, ring ahead and we will put it behind the counter with your name on a bit of masking tape.

7 Pennygate, Fiddlewick · 01639 55 2041 · Tuesday to Saturday