I grew up in the sleepy Forest Of Dean countryside, a place where sheep were allowed to wander freely about the lanes and the milk man would stay and chat over a cup of tea. My childhood memories include warm, sunny days spent on the garden with my parents, younger brother and dogs, cats, ducks and chickens. There was lots to be done; planting vegetables and catching butterflies and eating plumbs. Breakfasts on weekends were my favourite; all four of us sat around the big wooden table in the kitchen, a jar of orange marmalade open on the table with a butter knife balanced across it, my mum listening to the radio and my dad reading the paper. Even now when ever I smell toast I long for breakfast at my parents.
There were wintry days too of course, frosty mornings where my mum would open the Aga door, and push two chairs up close for me and my younger brother to sit and swing our legs from as we thawed out in front of the flames. Some mornings it was cold enough to see my breath hover in the air as I lay in my bed under the blankets. I liked it when it was this cold, because dad would bring in lots of chopped wood and stack it in the fireplace and in the dark evenings the fire would roar and crackle.
I moved away to Brighton in my late teens, where I lived for 3 years. I loved it there; it's the perfect seaside town. I spent my time studying Costume for Theater, eating chips and candyfloss on the pier and lounging on the beach with good company.
When we decided to move back to the Forest I knew I would miss the sea, and I did. But although the salty air was gone I had the green trees to replace it and caught up on all the blackberry picking Id missed.
However, when you're a county girl, there is something about the City that makes your heart skip a little bit.
It's the bright lights that do it for me; it's a whole world lit up and glowing with possibilities. So very different from the dark nights with no street lighting, so dark I could never even see my own hand inches from my face.
So it wasn't long before me and a very good friend moved to a little town called Cheltenham. I stayed there for a year, working in a beautiful specialist kitchen shop where I lusted after the copper bain-marie and learnt why a good thermometer would save me from disaster.
It was during this time that I fell heard over heels for my wonderful boyfriend, T. He lived in Bristol and I would travel to see him on weekends, often staying Monday too, baking cakes all throughout the day for us to feast upon when he got home from work. One evening, as we drank rum in a cafe-boat and looked out at the water, he told me how ships used to bring lots of things into Bristol, especially sugar. Not long after I moved to Bristol, the city built on sugar, and we have a little flat together.
I spend my days writing and baking, and yes, T and I eat a lot of sugar.
Come say hello! You can find me on Pinterest and Twitter.