Home Baked Love.

What is it about the divine smell and look of a homemade, nut encrusted crumble that can sway me from any diet and assist me in gaining those hard lost pounds !
I pour my nuturing and loving energy into my children but also into my food just like my Nanny did, and though I agree that my cuddly exterior is a nice comfort to any tear filled child - it doesnt fit into the sort of clothes I yearn to wear Grrrrrrr
All of my childhood's nurturing came from my dear Nanny, a round, full boobed, curlers in hair, singing person who would spend vitually all day in her kitchen. Meat wrapped in home loved, butter filled pastry would emerge each lunch time followed by slowly stewed strawberry Jam which would fill tart cases into which I would stick my finger and pull out all the sricky contents and then bring them back to my patient Nanny who would fill the empty case time and time again.
Through any pain or lack of love given by my own parents, my nanny would refill me, with her podgy scrumtious arms and her delicious fridge full of nice treats.  When we werent at her house eating, we would travel to her local market where she would buy me chocolate mouses which we would sit and eat in the park with our fingers.

My Nanny's death during my very turbulent teens left me empty and lost. Wandering up to her flat to try to breathe in some of her scent, I opened the door to find a horrific scene. My mother and her family scouring the flat for each item of importance that they could store. I instead found myself in her kitchen and straight to the fridge.. Inside lay various little plates on which tiny morsels of Roast Beef, dripping, last nights chicken, sat awaiting the next blitz - a fear all of my Nans generation shared.  Opening the freezer door and the top drawer, I breathed in grief, relief, sadness, joy and anticipation as I saw a little bag full of home made pasties with my name on them.
Later on, whilst my relatives sat and perveyed their treasures, I sat and slowly nibbled away my pasty, sobbing and remembering the warm hugs, and soft breasts that would never hold me again. As painful as that was then, I know now that whenever I am low, I make myself something delicious - home made, love encrusted and devour it with a tea spoon filling myself with joy.