Skip to main content

The old and the new

On 20th October 2014 I posted the following on Facebook:


The ferns are the first to go, followed by a single Golden Delicious tree, autumn's first hostage in a row of Cox's Orange Pippins. Two wood-pigeons lift their barrelled-bodies into the air, such effort in the whir of their wings, as if the weight of summer is still with them. And it is, in the long grass, the scatter of daisies, the oak trees, the sun-busting blue sky, these stray apples I gather, missed by the pickers almost two months ago. 

Indian summer 
the impatient rustle 
of something in the woods


And here I am, precisely a year later, standing in the orchard on a day that seems like an exact replica of that one: the light, the burnished leaves, the same point of slip towards autumn. 

Hungry Writing Prompt
Write about what you were doing one year ago.

And if that wasn't enough the vet who stamped my cat's inoculation booster card this morning noticed that he'd given her last year's on 20th October too. 

There's no third repeated thing for 20th October, however tempted I am to find, or even invent, one! But there is a bright and beautiful new thing for October 2015: the hungry writer book which owes much of its beauty to Bob Carling, of Cultured Llama, whose publishing skills expended on the book design and production have everyone sighing over how lovely it is to touch and hold! Even this llama puppet, courtesy of Steve Allen, was impressed at the book's Kent launch last Sunday. 

And even more beautiful - more so even than the little welshcakes I made for the launch which also inspired a lot of sighing and crumbly delight - were all the lovely guests who came along to help me celebrate. 


They made the occasion so much more than just a book launch: it was about friendship and generosity. And I can't thank them enough. Except to say, please have another welshcake. And I hope you enjoy the stories in the book. They might be my memories and reflections but they're probably not that different from your own. Stories about parents, about children, about losing people we love and wondering about the world we live in. All the things that make us human, whoever we are, wherever we happen to be. 

Love from Lynne x






Popular posts from this blog

Pie, pie glorious pie

So often when we talk about food we are talking about family. In fact that was how the hungry writer blog began, nearly six years ago: weekly memories or life stories linked by the theme of food. Food is nurture and love. It can be celebration and anxiety too. It can also be a battleground, as the parents of young children know so intimately! Which is rather a satisfying segue into the family featuring in this week's blogpost: The Radfords. Because if anyone understands the feeding of children, really, really understands, it has to be Sue Radford who, with her husband, Noel, has 19 children. You can read about the family on their website but don't rush off yet as what I really want to talk about is pie. And specifically Radford's pies.
Noel Radford has been a baker for 25 years and opened his own bakery in 1999 in Heysham, Lancashire and makes pies with locally sourced ingredients. That, along with his skill as a master baker, means that the pictures of the 'filled to t…

Eat, laugh, cry, remember: Baked Camembert

Once, on a holiday in Malta, I dressed Tony up in my gypsy skirt and stretchy white vest, used two satsumas for breasts and made up his eyes and lips with the brightest colours I had with me. Then I took a photograph. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed quite tickled by the fuss and attention to detail, but the quantity of rosé we’d shared at Snoopy’s restaurant on the seafront in Sliema earlier in the evening might have had something to do with that.

This was 1988. There were no digital cameras for instant viewing (and, praise be, instant deletion). The only instant photographs at the time came courtesy of Polaroid, with their packages of square film and box-like cameras, and slid out of the front of the machine on shiny thick card that everyone huddled over and watched develop. But they tended to be party cameras, appearing at Christmas, birthdays, engagements. You captured your holiday photos on a proper camera, one you had to load and feed film into, then unload and drop off…

The Mythic Biscuit: Oreos

My childhood biscuits were mainly plain but had lovely names: Marie, Nice, Rich Tea. Quiet biscuits. The kind of biscuits that would never interrupt a conversation. Polite, not pushy. At the other end of the spectrum, and only irregularly present, probably a result of practical economics, were cheeky Jammy Dodgers, irritable Garibaldis, and self-contented and reliable Bourbons. And even more irregularly, the flashy inhabitants of a Christmas Box of Biscuits: Pink Wafers. I ate them at the same time as not liking them very much, a bit like Miss World Contestants in sparkly dresses, too much eye make-up and a saccharine idea of world peace. 
I'm in the mood to think, and personify, 'biscuits' because the lovely team at Oreo sent me some samples of their new Oreo Thins. I hadn't heard of Oreos until the early 1990s when a friend asked if I would bring him back a packet from a Florida holiday. I forgot and pretended I couldn't find them. 'But they're everywher…