A bit like marmite – marmalade can be a love or hate foodstuff for some and indeed there are still some days where I prefer shredless but, for me it represents some of my childhood, my mother used to make it every year and we would spread it on toast every morning for what seemed an age until the jar was finished.
Fennella didn’t like marmalade, she sat and stared at the breakfast offering from the hotel she stayed in, simple yet strangely satisfying, she was trying to decide from the selection of three jams which she didn’t like the least so she could at least spread something on her toast instead of butter or marg. Oh well cherry it was
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