I do hope this will not sound flippant, but my jam-making has been sabotaged by international terrorism, in a roundabout and unintentional kind of way.
News broke of the attempt to blow up planes flying from London to America, and High Wycombe was mentioned as one of three places where the suspects have been arrested. They have closed off part of a street very near to my son's former school. Perhaps I have passed a suspect more than once in the street. The news was absorbing rather than disturbing. We do things differently here. Were this Lebanon, I'd be on my way out of town before the bombing starts.
As it is, nothing worse has happened than my forgetting the jam on the stove, so that it's been cooked too long.
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1 comment:
alas, ruined jam is a minor tragedy in itself. I have no trouble connecting it with terrorism - the emotional distance people travel from their food prepares one to emotionally distance oneself from humanity that is distant.
I love the simple rituals of cooking; although these days I don't garden, I still think of Saturday morning at the Farmers Market as a high point of my week. Quiet conversation about crops and weather, families and animals is as rich a part of the ritual as is the buying of wholesome food.
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