It is Mother' s Day. I am writing a book as some know, and am at the part where I am describing my last visit with my mother. I sat down yesterday to the computer to tackle the edits and began to retch. She died over ten years ago and still it is hard. Mothers are our very blood and bone.
Given that my daughters are far away, and no invitation for High Tea at The Empress Hotel is forthcoming, I decided to have a bucket list experience in a quiet kind of way. Reading British novels is a favourite past time and it seems the characters are forever sipping Pimms during late afternoons in English gardens. I have always wondered what it tasted like, so yesterday I bought some, thinking I would give it a try.
Oh dear. I must not be making it right. Think marmite that has water added to it, with an alcohol level. The taste was alarming - I don't really like it. Now I have a whole bottle of the stuff.