Oh the memories food brings. I have just been unwell, in the horrid ‘in the bathroom half the night’ way. It was a condition which much afflicted my childhood. As the blessed moment once again came, when I could seize an glass of water and drain it, without disgust or nausea, and once again taste that it was actually almost sweet, I remembered how that moment would so often come in the dead dark of night, or as the first stirrings of dawn were nearly visible to hot eyes seeking the window.
I no longer have any devoted nurse, so today I got up and considered food, as a way of putting some strength into wobbling legs. In the end it boiled down to a choice between my grandmother’s stand by of bread-and-milk, or my mother’s chocolate egg custard. I had forgotten just how delicious chocolate egg custard can be. I had totally forgotten the crispy bits round the edge of the dish, which are always the best bit.
I am much restored.