Easter Sunday

I have written all my thank you letters, thank you.
My birthday was simply lovely. Brighton lunch, and flowers all over the kitchen.
This morning I am a week older than last Sunday. Being 64 is really rather good. My gift to myself is that I really don’t give a toss now. About what you may ask? Pretty much everything.
I am sitting in the attic with the ‘oosbind and we are concocting my first speech for business women.
Oooaa what’s she like.
This morning I drove in the snow – yep real friggin snowflakes – to PLAWHATCH farmshop. Through the East Sussex countryside. Spent, not a lot, on raw milk and cheese, delicious bread and two garlic bulbs as big as your head.
My lovely girlie gardening fairy princess came and weeded and has booked us a little abandoned brown labrador collie cross puppy from her rescue centre in Ireland.
I will update you on the little thing when he or she arrives.
But tomorrow CALL ME on 0207 224 2000 – EASTER SUNDAY – and TALK TO ME about food your mother taught you to cook. And lets chat about charities.
A good thing a bad thing? who is your charity.
Foodie things my ma taught me;
How to chop a salad.
How to lay a table.
How to make chop liver.
How to make chicken soup.
How to make a meal for four stretch to a meal for 44.
Like Elijahs lamp somehow we just kept on burning, no matter how poor we were, or how many people turned up there’s always room at the table.
Have a great Easter, Pesach and whatever festival floats your boats. See ya tomorrow.