It’s a bright spring morning, and I’m stuck in stalemate. My taxi is refusing to budge, and neither is the red-faced man in front of us, waving his arms out of his Toyota window. The two cars are nose to nose on a single-lane country road which was never meant for more traffic than one man and a few sheep. Lined by dry-stone walls, there’s little room for manoeuvre. So I sit and wait until one of them relents, and reverses back up the winding road to a lay-by….
First published at fishonfriday.org
It’s a grizzly Tuesday morning when I find myself in a taxi winding through London’s East End, toward Billingsgate Market. Past Rum Close, Narrow Street, Butcher Row and all the other avenues whose names hint at the rich history of this part of London’s Docklands.
Christmas is a time of tradition. But tradition is a fluid thing.
For a while there was the tradition of Dad finding waifs and strays on Christmas Day and bringing them back for lunch—but that petered out after couple of real odd balls….
This year I thought it’d be a good idea to make some marzipan chickens to share with you, my lovely readers. As you can see from reading at the bottom of this post, there’s a dark story behind the chickens, but for now, I’m just going to tell you how to go about making these lovely (non-chocolate) Easter treats….