She made the best Lancashire Lemon Fingers I’ve ever tasted; moist with a crust of crispy baked sugar on top. Puddings were always called a “round robin” because of the huge array on offer – chocolate torte, trifle, cakes and more. No one could choose just one dessert, so they’d opt for a “round robin” of them all instead.

Roast dinners were the best, all of us crammed around the table in the dining room, on dining chairs and stools, deckchairs and cushions. It was loud, with lots of laughter, my grandad at the head of the table, asking, “What’s for pudding?” before he’d even taken a bite of his chicken.

Bustling. She was always bustling. Bustling around the kitchen with an apron on, stirring things and taking hot trays out of the oven, making cups of tea and passing them through the hatch, or spreading butter on pieces of bread for sandwiches. You’d try to help and she’d pretend to smack your fingers away. “Don’t you be silly, I’ll get it for you, what would you like?” Continue reading »