Last week, we endured the eighth anniversary of my Mam’s passing. She passed away three days shy of my Dad’s third anniversary. It’s a week I dread every year. Anniversaries are a strange business, I don’t miss my Mam more on those days because it’s not possible to physically miss her anymore than I already miss her. But anniversaries have a horrible way of moving very slowly and it’s difficult to not watch the clock turning through the day and remembering each and every event that happened during the worst day of your life. My Mam passed away very suddenly the week before Mother’s Day, I was living in Edinburgh and had bought the gift to post over, sheepskin lined slippers; slippers my flat mate had to return to the shop for me when I flew home. Consumed with grief, I flew home for good not long after.
While browsing through Nigella Lawson’s ‘Feast’ this morning I came across this paragraph which summed the feeling of grief up perfectly: ‘It takes time even to begin to accept someone’s becoming part of a memory bank rather than a living-breathing person: the immediate loss is entirely shockingly physical; their smell, the feel of them. They are not in the next room: they are gone.”
However, I am fortunate to have a wonderful mother-in-law who considers her daughters-in-law, her daughters. She is always ready to offer advice, but only when asked and carefully considers her response in the off chance that it may offend. Although recently when she was supposed to be admiring our baby in a scan photo, she did say our baby had a pointy nose, “just like you”. Excuse me, I have a cute button nose! Yes, baby! We are having a baby, so this time next year, I will be celebrating Mother’s Day as a mother rather than a daughter, although it will be a bittersweet experience without my Mam with me to celebrate her first grandchild, I know that, as always she will be with me in spirit. A reminder that life is ever changing.
I am nearly half way along in the pregnancy now and want to eat every scone in a five mile radius of my ever expanding person. What does this mean? Girl? Boy? Scone-baby?
The title of the post is a nod towards the awful book of the same name but also in a nod towards a very sad looking but extremely tasty cake. It’s a little unusual as it involves boiling two lemons before blending into a pulp, half of the pulp is added to the cake batter and the remainder to the mascarpone icing. I had my friends over for a late lunch and afternoon tea today and we all loved this cake. We also loved this goats cheese, onion and potato tart and bourbon ale brown bread. For our afternoon tea we had mini vanilla scones with softly whipped cream and raspberry jam, jaffa biscuit cake and the sad looking lemon cake. We put the world to rights drinking tea from my Mam’s china cups, a reminder that life is ever changing….