If I had been asked to contribute a chapter to Zosia Mamet’s collection of essays about feelings and food, My First Popsicle, I would have written about my occasional sick-days as a child.
My Mum and Nan had a florist shop and if I was sick, I had to go to work with Mum. I would lie at the back of the shop on a plastic banana lounge, watching a tiny black and white TV. If I rallied by lunchtime (and let’s be honest, I mostly did), I would eat potato cakes from the fish and chip shop next door, and spend the afternoon misting the carnations (it was the seventies!) with my Nan’s special water bottle. Truly the best days, and the combined smell of flowers and the fish and chip shop oil is firmly and forever in my memory. Continue reading
