Tea and Scones

I take a break from writing. Breakfast hasn't happened this Saturday morning. M encouraged me to write while he washes the windows. Write or wash windows? I certainly got the better option. After a late night and the substantial wedding reception dinner the evening before, breakfast hasn't been high on our agenda. But now it is brunch-time: time for tea and scones.

I warm four raisin scones in the microwave, slice them in two, spread raspberry jam and dab on a dollop of the real stuff - English double Devon cream. It's my British heritage that has me longing for scones and cream. I'm proud of my home-baked scones. I'm not much of a baker and so I am particularly tickled that I have pulled this off. M's ready to take a tea break too. Amid a bucket of water, a vacuum cleaner and cleaning materials, we take our seats, bite into a scone and indulge.

Tea and scones, so English - my Grandmother James used to bake scones for tea and there were many times my mother baked scones on the weekend as a treat: England in Africa. I remember a trip to London, where M and I hunted high and low for tea and scones. Eventually, we found a coffee shop and tea room in Greenwich that served scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream.

"Mmm, these are good. Make them again," M commends. Yes, I think I will. I'll bring a little taste of England to Lonsdale with the tradition of serving hot scones, a berry jam and clotted cream with our tea.