One More Step Along The Road
I started writing this draft a few days a go, and when I came back to it, I had no idea why I called it this as all I had written was the title.
I’ve sat and ruminated, trying to work out what on earth I’d been about to say. I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t about the hymn, because I am not a hymn/church song fan. Especially not the ‘modern’ ones. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Good King Wenceslas, In The Bleak Midwinter - yes, all carols I know but those I do very much like.
All Things Bright and Beautiful just feeds memories of cramped school assemblies in the school hall, the smell of new plimsolls and damp coats mixing with burnt toast from the staff room and beeswax polish on the parquet floors.
This was my primary school and it still looks like that, with a few additions here and there.
Here it is now, still with many, many ornamental cherry trees. I always wanted to know what that house looked like on the inside, it felt so cosy tucked in there. I think it was the school caretaker's house but I was intensely curious about it. I’m quite pleased that lovely old building is still there, existing and educating like it has for the last 100 years. We used to stand under the trees as the blossom fell, feeling like it was snowing pink and white just for us.
This is the back - it is a huge site - and there on the left, the white building that held the magical Kitchens. I was there from maybe 1976 until 1980/81 when I left, heart broken, to go to Big School. I had loved being there, although not many of us loved the change over to fast food instead of Proper Lunches. No more spare doughnut holes at break time. Such a shame. A burger and ‘fries’ just didn’t have the same appeal, nor the name nutritional value. Thatcher descended onto the schools in 1979, so I suspect all the cuts came from high up. Why on earth would you need to feed growing children properly? What kind of namby pamby idea was that anyway? I’m sure she felt we were all workshy plebs anyway with our pencils and non joined up writing.
To be fair though [grits teeth] the UK was in a real pickle. In 1976, Britain faced financial crisis. The Labour government was forced to apply to the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for a loan of nearly $4 billion. IMF negotiators insisted on deep cuts in public expenditure, greatly affecting economic and social policy. She still took away school milk though.
1976 was The Summer of The Drought. In the same way that chaps still go on about 1966 being the best year for football, people will still talk about 1976 as being the hottest year ever. Standpipes for water, pavements far too hot to walk on and six weeks of joyful school holidays for the kids as we gained sunburned noses and tanned shoulders. It was the year I learned to swim, as Nan and Grandad had built a swimming pool. Luckily it was ready before the drought and thus the hosepipe ban hit.
My very patient grandad would swim behind me, holding a bath towel around my waist so I didn’t sink as I practiced splashing about. One day he gave me a sip of his delicious home made blackberry wine, and when we started swimming he let go of the towel and I just…kept on going.
Spending time at Nan’s always meant cake or pie or whatever delight she happened to have been baking. I can never make a pastry as good as hers, and no cake I make matches up. I know I should have paid attention, but when one is 6, one just cares more about eating the cake than making the cake.
She also used rhubarb a lot, and would make delicious rhubarb and strawberry pies. As I am not great at pastry - it’ll do but I’m no Mary Berry - I’ll settle for a crumble.
Buy scales. It’s easier.
Fruit Base
3 long sticks fresh rhubarb chopped into inch pieces (250g)
250g golden caster sugar
5 tbs water
1 tsp vanilla extract
5 plums, destoned and chopped into quarters
1 tbs cinnamon and 1 tbs sugar mixed together
Crumble Topping
8oz plain flour
4 oz butter, cubed
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp brown sugar
Tip the rhubarb, sugar, vanilla and water into a pan, mix, and leave to simmer.
A LOT of juice will come out.
When the rhubarb is soft, pour off the juice into a jug.
Pop the rhubarb into your crumble pan and then pop the plum pieces on top. Sprinkle with the cinnamon sugar.
Return the juices to the pan, add 1 tsp set honey, and 1 tsp cinnamon, leave to simmer until thickened, then pour back into the jug. It should set into a fruit spread like consistency.
Make the crumble topping with the flour and butter (I use a food processor on pulse, or one of those wire 'cutter in' things with a wooden handle. My hands are too hot otherwise.) and then add in the remaining cinnamon and sugar.
Dot the plums with some of the rhubarb 'spread'. (Refrigerate the rest, it's like jam and delicious on ice cream.)
Pile the crumble mix on top of the fruit and bake until all the juices start to bubble through. It may darken a lot where the juice comes through, but that's a mark of home made!