A house is nothing whilst a home is everything.

A home is full of books,pictures,clutter that we have accumulated over the years. Alongside these items memories are attached or perhaps it's the thought that, one day, that tin of nails, holiday photo's we've not looked at for years might actually re-awaken other memories.

My son has a child of his own; daughters still in career mode.....maybe fear mode. I've no doubt their memories of their family home offer a dolly mixture mix of happy times such as water fights in the garden, that ended up in a slippery kitchen, ball games and the odd smashed window whilst in summer up went the tent and in came the kids from our street and beyond. Our youngest daughter, a June baby, had the privilege of eating Care Bear birthday cake; that upset said daughter so much that she pleaded with me to buy all her birthday cakes. I obliged her request with a hint of relief and regret. A super-cook I am not. If friends were invited for tea then I would be asked what was on the menu with us. If they didn't much like the sound of my offering they decided to go home instead.

I'm certain these memories will remain in their heads just as I remember my lovely mum, blind from birth, offering kit-e-kat stew or dumplings that clung to the base of the pan. I smile, whilst typing this first draft, knowing my beautiful mum had a excuse whilst I cannot explain my culinary endeavours. I don't think my situation is improved with the knowledge that one famous cook bears my name nor that my paternal Nana was a skilled cook. ......more to follow