Jam and Scones

Ah, but we were young then and not quite as hairy in surprising places as we are now. There were times when it all seemed as though even the winters were one long endless summer and your impatience with the restrictions of underwear were not affected by sudden drops in temperatures and the prospect of a bracing cold front bringing a sudden nip into the air.

What cared we for the goose-pimpling cold when we shivered with desire and need and had so much picking vinegar and what seemed like an endless supply of shallots.

In the summer too there were strawberries and your deep yearning for me to spread our very own home-made jam across your still-warm scones, trembling with need as I then began to lick it off.

Still though, back in those days were young and free – or at least did not have to include VAT – and we thought they would last forever.

Now though, we sit here and debate the relative merits of socks and woollens as we feel the first chilly fingers of winter's icy dark mornings linger a little too long a little too close than we'd like to our nether regions which – for reasons known only to themselves – have seemingly decided to opt for early hibernation.