I come late to most things. This year it was Shrove Tuesday, a day for confession and pancakes. This year, it was the Tuesday which I would call Froze Tuesday, the day when I nearly died of cold putting up Swift boxes on the Maltings in Ely. So I didn't do the pancake thing.
Never mind, my good friend Johanna came the next day with a jar of pancake mix and a recipe. This morning I finally got round to making a batch. They were almost as good as the ones my mother used to make, which is another way of saying that I haven't had pancakes since I was about 14. What pleases me too is that it's the first time I have made pancakes.
Oh frabjous joy! You know how smells, sounds and tastes can bring back memories so intense that your eye moistens and your bottom lip starts to tremble. Well, that was my pancake experience this morning.
Some people might call me a tosser, but I didn't toss. Lacked the courage, I turned them with a spatula.