Well now there are just 10 days to go before Mollie Maestro takes Larry Lunar back to be tucked up in his field in Yorkshire. I felt so homesick yesterday that I bought a Yorkshire Pudding, filled with Onion Gravy and three small sausages. Very tasty too but not like mother made.
She was a virtuoso of the coal fired Yorkist range and her Sunday Roast was the star meal of the week. Now on Thursday Mac and I shared about 18 ounces of steak, griddled to perfection and a filling dish. But mam had no option for massive roasts, the ration was 2 ounces of meat per person. Wartime or not mam had her priorities, with three of us children at home she and dad kept a good table. The beef was sliced and Father would get the lions share, out of ten ounces he would have about 6 the children each got a generous slice and mam seldom more than a scrap.
But the platters were full with 9 inch Yorkshires, light, crisp and tasty. There were three in each ovenfull and the extra one was offered to dad with the children getting the next option. Jam was a filling we preferred, mam made her own from berries picked in the hedgerows or 'going off' fruit from the greengrocer. Sugar too was rationed, the black market supply was handled by the local bobby, and a nod and wink paid to the law.
Birds custard powder made a substantial custard, so thick it clung to your ribs. Then if we were still hungry, mam baked her own bread every day, with some butter spread thinly and jam topping a couple of slices (still warm) rounded off the main meal of the week.
Dad would send for a quart of ale from the shop, Sam the licensee drew a drop to check it was fit to sell and a gill to seal the sale. His red and purple nose telling of his tippling. We kids had a shandy with mam, dad finished off the rest and went to bed 'for a rest' in the afternoon. In the evening, coals from the range would be carried into the lounge, a fire warmed the enormous room and dad would play the piano.Speeches by the prime minister, Mr Churchill were listened to in hushed silence. Then off he went to his ARP post, mam clutched her brood around her and if the alert sounded the sirens we would go into the cellars where a massive stone slab table was the centrepiece, wrapped up well we waited the all clear. Dad cuddled mam when he returned, then up the wooden stairs to Bedfordshire, a prayer and sleep until morning.
Oh I do rattle on don't I, but I didn't think you needed reminding about the American disaster. Families torn apart by violence, the survivors embraced on their return. A friends daughter flew to New York on Monday, he and his wife were torn with fear for her safety as she was due to start her job that tragic morning. Eventually they made contact, I told them to give her a virtual hug for me. My prayers go out for all who are still missing, for all those who have lost someone and for those who have had their lives disrupted by this act.
My friend Kat is in Boston, Sandra in Florida she took her friend Maggie ( a cleaning lady) along for the ride. They are delayed in returning from their trips, I wish them God speed their return..
Bacon butties for me, sausages (half price from Purkess) for the black monster, washed down with Douwe Egberts then a walk down the magic path to the common. Rabbits to chase, birds to startle and with luck a sight of the Sika deer before it flits into the forest.