Nanna’s teas were a
major event, whenever her family gathered at the end of the week, all crammed
round the dining table. Bread and fish paste were followed by bread and
home-made jam. Toast was made at the open fire and was as thick as the walls of
Troy and dripping with butter. Home-made sponge cake sandwiched yet more jam.
But the highlight was
the home-made cream horns. These huge puff pastry constructions were
magnificent! They were of such a size, shape and fragility that consumption
could not be achieved without near-immersion in pints of tasteless white
filling. Everyone else seemed to love them. I would try to look full and have
another jam sandwich.
The cream-horns seemed to
be Nanna’s pride and joy, but I suspect the real pleasure was the gathering of
her bright family under the grey, slate roof.
