Donut Day 030625 #aussie #australia #sydney #donuts

Georgia and her best friend Stephanie had finally moved into their new flat on Albion Street, Surry Hills —
a charming old place with squeaky floorboards, vintage windows, and a suspiciously talkative neighbour named Merv.
To break in the new space, they planned a housewarming.
But while Georgia was thinking wine and cheese, Stephanie had other ideas.
“I’m making it a National Donut Day party!” she declared.
Georgia blinked. “Donut Day? You’re serious?”
“Absolutely!” grinned Stephanie. “My great-grandmother was in the Salvation Army during WWI — they made donuts for the soldiers in the trenches.
Apparently, they were easier to cook and transport than full meals.”
Georgia laughed. “So... donuts for dinner?”
“Why not? I’ll fry, you brew the coffee,” said Stephanie, already pulling out her grandmother’s battered recipe book.
Come party night, their flat smelled like a bakery. Guests arrived to mountains of donuts — cinnamon, glazed, jam-filled — and endless cups of coffee and tea.
By 10pm, people were swapping stories and laughing about how the brave soldiers probably didn’t wash down their donuts with oat milk lattes — but hey, times had changed.
Merv even popped in to share his own story: “I once dated a donut maker,” he announced proudly, before promptly falling asleep in a beanbag.
In the end, it was the sweetest housewarming Surry Hills had seen — thanks to two friends, one great-grandmother, and a whole lot of donuts.
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