Honesty

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Above are featured the seed-heads of Honesty, which always remind me, like spring bulbs, of primary school, where they were a part of the background to our first education, arranged dry in vases in most classrooms at City Road: the arrival of spring heralded by the emergence of Hyacinths and Crocuses potted up likewise throughout the school in the previous term. Just as the scent of Nasturtiums or the sound of crows takes me straight back to Fromes Hill and Fairview, the smell of a Hyacinth in bloom has me back in my earliest schooldays. Unlike Proust, I don't have a deep culinary tradition on which to draw for memorial references, although Mom's roast Sunday lunches and my Nan's apple pie and custard would stand me in good stead for a Madeleine, if only I could find someone who could cook either in like manner - myself included.


 

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