All good things come to an end.
Our flight was at some unearthly hour, which meant that while Mom and Tarpe talked nonstop like true grownups, I gratefully snoozed on the bunk in my airport outfit, all ready to go, from passport to blue nail polish. Even the charm of tinned tongue (how many times had I read about British people eating tinned tongue in old storybooks and thought it sounded excitingly exotic if gross?) faded as the clock hands crept forward.
In between uneasy dreams that I was a puff pastry sausage roll--probably because the winter coats I was wrapped in made me roly-poly and rustling with every move--small memories from the trip replayed themselves across my mind, and I made mental notes to write them down.
Fulfilling another old wish I had never thought I'd be able to--visiting the famous Hummingbird Bakery in Portobello, South Kensington. Someone had given me the Hummingbird Bakery recipe book and I fell in love with Peter Cassidy's flawless photography, so effortlessly beautiful you forgot a human was involved at all and assumed that was the natural environment of such lovely desserts. That book inspired me on how beautiful baking could be. I reverently carried away a piece of the famous triple layer raspberry cheesecake brownie. It was like a dream. I actually took a photo of the bag it came in just because it was a Hummingbird Bakery bag.
The Turkish takeaway cafe we fell in love with; a clean-looking, well-lit white jewel of a haven amid the menacing darkness of the streets in the dreary evening. We hadn't had the iconic fish and chips yet, so we opted for the Turkish version, and they were paradise on a plate. Free flow of soft Turkish bread, in small baskets on the table, was enough for me to fall in love. I remember how the chef just opened up when we tried to tell him how much we loved his food, and started sharing his recipes for marinating meat as if we were entering his family. There's nothing like food for bringing people together. Kiwi fruit for beef, capsicum for pork...One day I shall go back just for that fish and chips, and to tell the chef we tried his recipe back in Singapore.
Bubble blowing outside the Globe, by the water front. Children who didn't know each other became best friends chasing those sparkling things, adults who were strangers exchanged smiles and took photos.
The Cornish Pasty we ate outside Windsor Castle. Growing up, we had a dishcloth someone had given to us from a trip to Cornwall; it had a recipe for Cornish pasties on it, and a rather badly drawn picture of miners eating Cornish pasties which somehow looked very delicious to us (though to be honest they just looked like drab gray curry puffs.) So it was a thrill to actually eat one--even though it actually did taste like a dull curry puff.
My first guacamole, which was incredibly good in a whole new aspect of taste I was unfamiliar with. Sour cream. Black olives. Fresh tomatoes. Beans. It tasted like the best of Eden.
The roses and wayside flowers which I could not, as someone from the evergreen tropics, take for granted.
And inside our bags somewhere, a beautiful handmade card featuring a poem, by Hannah Dunnett.
Our Heavenly Father God above,
full of Truth and Grace and Love,
Thank You that You're always there
That You hear and that You care
About the Big Things and the Small
That fill our lives; we bring it all.
Let Your words help us to know
Which way to turn, which way to go.
Bringing to our earthly place
A little more of Heaven's grace.
Give us what we need today,
To eat, to work, to love and play.
Please forgive us when we make a wrong
By aim or by mistake
And knowing that You always do
May we forgive each other too.
This world around us is so full
Of different things to push and pull
Our hearts and minds in every way;
Help us with this Lord we pray,
To choose the healthy and the right,
To bring Your blessing and Your light.