THE GUEST BOOK
I’m stretched out on the settee in my living room staring out at the blooming Wisteria through the large bay windows as we’ve just had a week of Summer. Mum tells me I’m always talking about the weather, would you blame me living in the UK! On my lap, a large blue Smythson notebook and on the window seal, a plate with a few madeleines, financiers and of course a cup of tea, I feel a bit like the cat that got the cream! I have been waiting for this moment since 00:30 hrs the night before and now that it’s here, I seem rather reluctant to proceed. Tissue at the ready, deep breath, open book and instead of the tears I’d expected, I burst out into delighted laughter! My neighbours must think I’m a bit crazy as this happens a lot. I’m reading what is, since the night before, my “guest book”. I’ve had the notebook for over six years and didn’t quite know what to do with it. One thought had been to write in it my favourite recipes which would one day be published but hadn’t quite got ro
