Archiver > GEN-TRIVIA-ENG > 2003-02 > 1044511752

From: "Howard Fuller" <>
Subject: Re: [trivvies] Sharon's emporium.
Date: Thu, 6 Feb 2003 06:09:12 -0000
References: <000901c2cc83$27f75d60$0fea86d9@vaisey>

Ooooh Liz!! How wonderfully evocative to read that!! Although there were no
mullioned windows or low-beamed ceiling, that open fire and the toasting fork
took me right back to my childhood... Ooooh - many, many thanks!!
I know it's not quite the same thing, but Bron and I had crumpets for tea
yesterday. Maybe they were toasted in the electric toaster rather than over an
open fire, but all the same the butter still melted gently into the holes in
the top of the crumpets... and they were delicious! We had two each!

----- Original Message -----
From: "Liz G" <>
To: <>
Sent: Tuesday, February 04, 2003 7:24 PM
Subject: RE: [trivvies] Sharon's emporium.

> 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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