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From: "Becky Higginbottom" <>
Subject: [trivvies] toasting tea cakes...
Date: Tue, 4 Feb 2003 18:40:45 -0800
References: <000901c2cc83$27f75d60$0fea86d9@vaisey>


Very nice, Liz.. my mouth is watering and the front of me is warm and the
back of me chilled.. I hope you got an A+ for this one!!!
becs


> I wrote this recently for homework:
>
>
> Stars twinkle brightly in the night sky; a hard frost covers the ground in
a
> mantle of jewels that sparkle in the moonlight; wisps of smoke lazily
drift
> upwards from cottage chimneys; the moon lights a path on the gentle swell
of
> the calm sea in the bay and an air of expectation electrifies the
> atmosphere. Curtains are closely pulled behind mullioned windows,
shutting
> out the crisp winter’s chill. In one cottage a chink of light escapes
from
> one corner, allowing sight of the festivities inside.
>
> The living room has a low-beamed ceiling and an open fire behind a
> brass-topped fender. On the walls sprigs of berried holly top the
pictures
> and along the dark oak beams are coloured paper chains. Between the
> pictures are strings of Christmas cards with pictures of robins, snowmen,
> Christmas trees and boughs of holly. On one side of the hearth are some
> easy chairs, on the other is an old wooden settle and in front is a large
> fluffy rug on a deep red carpet. The fire crackles and spits, its flames
> flickering patterns on the walls.
>
> I sit on the rug in front of the fire, my toes sinking into the pile of
the
> rug. My back feels chilly whilst my cheeks are rosy from the warmth in
> front of me. I pick up the toasting fork with an ornamental Celtic knot
> handle and spear it into one of the teacakes sitting on a plate beside me.
> Leaning forward I hold the teacake close to the flames and the sticky top
> soon dries dull and the currants wrinkle in the heat. I turn the teacake
> over, wincing as my fingers touch the hot teacake, before returning it to
> the fire. Steam slowly rises as the smell of spiced sweetness wafts
through
> the air and the teacake turns a golden brown. I put it down on a wooden
> kitchen block and pull a knife along the top of the slab of golden butter.
> The heat has softened the butter so that it oozes up against the knife
> blade. The knife scrapes over the crispy teacake outside and the butter
> forms little beads before it seeps into the soft inside. Breathing deeply
> to savour the smell, I slowly raise it to my mouth, tongue stretched out
to
> catch the drips of butter. My teeth sink through the crunch to the soft
> liquid gold inside, soft as the snow gently falling outside.
>
> The fire crackles as a log slips; a myriad of tiny sparks are drawn up the
> chimney. I pick up another log from the basket on the hearth and place it
> on the fire. Sparks and flames increase as I use the poker on the fire; I
> gaze into the flames and become mesmerized by the flickering shapes until
I
> am soon lost in dreams.
>
> Liz (UK)
>
>
>
> And do they serve toasted tea-cakes with lots of butter oozing from them
in
> Nellie's tearooms? They do?! Right, never mind the present need to watch
> my
> diet, I'm on my way - from fond childish memories of Bobbies' tearooms in
> Bournemouth yonks ago !!
>
> Howie
>
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