I remember: reflections on writing


I remember little pots of cockles and prawns with vinegar on daytrips to Blackpool.

I remember boiled new potatoes, salt and butter from a paper bag on Rochdale market.

I remember sliced buttered white bread on the table and pint pots of tea.

I remember dumplings in broth at my grandma’s.

I remember pie and peas on Bonfire Night.

I remember Fray Bentos pies and Bigga Marrowfat peas in a tin.

I remember party pies at parties and cubed pineapple and cheese on cocktail sticks.

I remember Vespa curries on a Friday night, rice boiled in a bag and arranged in a ring on the plate.

I remember chip butties: chipped potatoes fried in a pan of boiling lard and drained in a colander, thick white bread with good butter.

I remember they were the only thing my dad cooked.

I remember they were good.

I remember we had to say they were good.