While living away from my home country, besides family and friends, there isn’t anything that I really miss. But one day totally unexpectedly a wayward thought came into my head, I suddenly thought of my sitting in my Granny’s kitchen on a Friday night sharing a pot of tea. This was a lovely old habit that came about while my brother and sister were watching something in the sitting room. This was our time together.

On this peculiar morning, I kept thinking back to these conversations, surprisingly bread possessed my senses. My tongue tried to chew around the soggy sandwiches of school lunches, car warm baguettes for beach picnics, seasoned by salted sand. My nose was tickled by melted butter on golden morning toast. And late night conversations had over crispy garlic bread. All brought their own memories and reminders, mostly bringing a smile.

Bread is a staple in many countries but each seem to have their own version. The Italians for focaccia, the French for baguette and brioche. Germany has sourdough, the UK is famous for white bloomers and scones. Ireland my home country owns the domain of soda bread and brown bread. While I adore proper brown bread I find it very difficult to find in some countries, even flour can prove elusive sometimes. Rye bread, yeast breads, pizza, whatever you choose to call it can usually be found, somewhere with a bit of searching. Occasionally sometimes it is more satisfying to make your own, to your own tastes, your own reminisces.

The opening line for Nourish from The Scottish Book Trust was:

If stories be the food of life, write on!

A call for short stories revolving around the theme of food, as long as it was true, was all they requested. Trying to be clever I instantly disregarded my first thought for what this story should be about. I tried a few stories about how the plight of the world leads to hunger, how the earth grows and blooms when we, the human race, leave it in peace and so on. As you may imagine from the above descriptions they were stilted, preachy or plain rubbish. I eventually had to admit my first instinct was worth a try. Homesick was the result. It isn’t perfect and I feel it still needs work but I think the bones are there. Of course, once it was submitted I noted a couple of mistakes that I had missed. The one thing that really didn’t come across in this version, due to formatting and time restrictions, was the recipe lay out that I experimented with – maybe you could use your imagination to see how I may have achieved that particular feat.

The link below will connect you to the Scottish Book Trust site ( Here you will find my story and many more there are also poems and many more creative offerings.

I hope you enjoy it and maybe if you have some more free time you will take a look at some more. One thousand words is the perfect bite size story for busy lives.

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