Whilst rummaging randomly through one of our old cookbooks at the weekend, thinking about Christmas pudding and such like, this spare page fell out. It's a recipe written down by my mum many years ago, for our Christmas cake. I had looked for this last year for ages and ages, gone through every book of my mum's that I thought it might have been in, but could not find it. Isn't it funny how these things happen. Just like that it fell at my feet. As if she was handing it to me herself.
A battered stained old piece of paper that conjures up so many happy memories and smells. A piece of paper that I shall now treasure for years to come.