Thursday, 29 September 2011

Italian poem No 3.

The psychiatric unit of the Hospital of Santa Maria Nuova in Florence treats between ten and twenty people each year who are so overcome by certain supreme masterpieces that they suffer disorientation, palpitations and sometimes manic or depressive symptoms. Among the artworks that trigger this response are Botticelli's Birth of Venus and Michelangelo's David. The condition is known as Stendhal Syndrome, after the writer.  Sufferers are usually single middle-aged visitors. Italians appear to have a natural immunity.  This poem is for Anne and Delphie.

City of Enchantment

Ah, Florence, flower among cities!
Who could resist your charm?
How your admirers come
with starry eyes
to gaze upon your beauty!
How you entrance the mind
and hold the heart
and steal the soul
of those so blessed to know you!
There you stand
between the gliding Arno and the sky
like Venus born again for our delight -
with knowing eyes
that hold a promise in that look,
at once so secret, coy and warm -
you know the power of the enchantment
that will lie on us
once we are in your realm
and give our helpless senses
to your pure distilled intoxication.
Let us pause and look a little while    
before we venture in.

We see you standing there before us -
glowing flesh caressed by light of day
skin of transparent marble veined with grey, 
and your tress of orange tiles swept
over your shoulders like a sunbleached mane -
such thick, bright, fragile stuff to shield and hide
the precious cache of treasures you maintain.
Here we see your dress for everyday,
the fabric made of terracotta pink
bordered with formal ornament
and scattered with stylised flora;
here and there the golden edges glint
and catch the sun.
Now we feel
fresh breezes from the sea come up the valley
breathing the showers and flowers that give you life.

Florence, the Queen of Cities!
Mistress of many a mad infatuation!
Oh how we who are you suitors
long to be where your warm arms enfold us,
where your charms outspread
such a delightful feast of varied joys
that even the appetite of glutton
must at last be satiate.
What are your offerings?
Beauties too rich to purchase!
Thoughts too intense to dwell on!
Joys too divine to dream of!

Queen of the heart! 
You stand 
at once so warm and cool, 
so welcoming and shy 
folded in hills 
and robed in flowers  
between the drifting water 
and the pale sky. 

Botticelli's Birth of Venus is renowned for
provoking attacks of Stendhal Syndrome.

©   Tamsyn Taylor

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Italian poem, No 2.

Piazza della Repubblica

Rome by night
the arching blue-black dome
above the roaring screeching endless noise
and glaring lights illuminating rain
fragmented images and flashing road
and swirling hissing spraying water
and the noise
and in the midst
a brazen nymph back-lit against the streams of gushing diamonds
blithely bathing in the fountain.

©    Tamsyn Taylor 

Italian Poem No 1.

Afternoon in Venice


You promised me Italy-
the dream of bumble bees,
the hazy loaves of Tuscan hills
and colonnaded shadows deep with wine;
Steep streets with red checked tables cut to stand
where no chair ever could;
Pale shutters faded to the shade of autumn grass;
Light, iridescent glinting sparkling twinkling
in the long rays of the pale autumn sun;
Pale frescoes
faded to the pink of autumn skies;
walls of ripe apricot and sanguine orange,
crumbling ochre and the pale red bricks:
the flesh of Italy beneath its plaster skin;
Cool streets of small cafes and purple shadows
and the smell of bread warm from the oven
and of shining fish scales in the afternoon;
The sacred goldfinch in a window cage
sings of the Passion to the patient pheasant
who awaits his sacrifice upon a faience dish
decked with the fleur de lys;
The Ancient Roman shop-front,
and inside, the fashion of today, this minute,
never seen again:-
the shoes, the bags, the scarves, the gloves, the style;
the cars, the motorbikes, the leather jackets;
and the taps that will not turn, the drains that block,
the creaking lift and trains that do not go.
The singing countryside,
the hilltop town with bells to wake each morning;
and the nightingale
among the orange trees
to penetrate the stillness of the night
with essence of a long past Tuscany
where man and wife,
now smiling on their tomb in cool display of their commitment,
once clung with lust,
once sank, longing and deep
into each other's souls of desire:
their sighs are wind in pine trees,
the sudden rain that falls upon the earth,
their procreation and the dust
that lies across the bonnet of the hired car
was once child of their love, long turned to earth
and now part of the richness and the sacrament
of this enchanted feast,
the bread and wine,
the broken meat,
the olives and the fish.

And how I long to eat this feast,
and walk on hills whereon my feet
crush pungent oregano as I go,
and tiny strawberry plants
show trefoil leaves
beneath the holm oaks:
and the Trinity,
God of all wonder and all sacrifice,
God of all inspiration and all life
is there for all to see,
vision of colour and geometry
deep in the magic painted recess of a crazzled wall.
Part of my soul, my self, is in that land.
My spirit soars to fill the vaults and domes
of smoky sensuous darkness
and gold light of candles. 
My spirit rises like the bells on drafts of air
up from the swaying towers,
and sings with painted angels,
tier upon tier
in perfect cacophony
vermilion, green and lapis lazuli.
My spirit hangs suspended like the cross
between the pointed arches of the sky above
and marble floor beneath.
It burns with the brightness of the sacred lamp,
red as a pomegranate, in the sanctuary.
The Virgin smiles for me.
The Child forever lifts his hand for my atonement.
I am one with them:
A stranger in that place,
and yet belonging by adoption.

You promised Italy,
my place of dreams,
my church of golden singing
and rich banquet of the senses.
Take me there,
to satisfy my dreams
and hone the edge
of my appreciation
and my appetite for more.

©    Tamsyn Taylor  

Saturday, 17 September 2011

A guide to Anglican Liturgy for young Sydney Anglicans

NOTE: Some Anglicans from beyond the boundaries of the Diocese of Sydney might be bemused that I should write this, but trust me, there are many young people in Sydney who go to Anglican churches regularly, but have never attended a liturgical service.

This is for young persons who don't understand the role played by Anglican prayer books and those "old-fashioned" church services  

The Anglican liturgy is a set way of conducting a church service.  The various services that can be used are printed in Anglican prayer books, the old "Book of Common Prayer" and the more recent "A Prayer Book for Australia".  They are based directly upon the Bible and reiterrate biblical teaching. 

The Anglican liturgy was written specifically for participation by the congregation.   Throughout each service of worship, the minister reads the service and the congregation responds aloud.  

What happens in a "prayer book" church service ?
A liturgical service leads the congregation, with the minister, through a series of stages of worship. The purpose of being at church is all stated by the minister at the beginning.
                After a verse of Scripture, he/she says "We are all here to:  1. Thank God!   2. Praise God!   3. Listen to God's word!   4. Pray to God!    ....but first, we have to remember that we are sinners and ask forgiveness." ....All Biblical Stuff, OK? and that is just the beginning!  Each one of these themes is then taken up within the course of the church service. 
                After the minister and congregation have all prayed a prayer in which they acknowledge their failings before God and ask forgiveness, the minister assures them of God's will to receive those who come to him in real penitence.  
                And they all say the "Lord's Prayer",  the same one Jesus taught the disciples, and which, outside of Sydney, every other Christian person in the Whole Wide World has learnt to say by heart.   It is something that across the world draws all Christians together, whether they be Anglican, Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox....   Can you imagine what it's like to be at a gathering where there are Christians from all over the world who pray the same words, all in different languages?   So if you are one of the young Sydney Anglicans who don't know this prayer, then my advice is learn it, because joining in with 50 thousand other Christians all praying it together might be the biggest buzz of your life!
                Then there are the Bible readings. There are two of them, or three of them, depending on the choice of the minister. But they always have a theme, and the theme follows through into a special prayer called the "Collect". Generally two readings are read by people in the congregation, and one is read by the person who is going to preach.
                In between the readings there's the Psalm and the Canticles. The Psalm is always on the theme of the readings.   It's a song of praise straight out of the Bible book of the same name. The Canticles are old Hymns of Praise, some of which are in the Bible and some which were used by the Early Christian Church.   The tunes are really rather easy, but the pattern is kind-of old- fashioned because the sentences are all different lengths and there is a trick to knowing how to make them fit the tune. In cathedrals they are sung with the help of a choir, but in most churches the congregation and minister just read them aloud.   The psalm is usually read alternating verse by verse with the leader and the people ....Hey! That's a lot of participation for the congregation, isn't it?
                The service continues with the Creed, which is a Bible-based statement of what Christians believe. Everybody says it together, standing up.  It begins: "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth......"   Good stuff, OK?
                Then there are things called responses, which are short little prayers that everybody knows and say alternately with the minister.
                And there is always a time for the church messages and for people to ask for prayer and tell good news and all that stuff.
                And there are a few set prayers. There is a prayer for Peace, and a prayer for Grace.  Or at night, there is a prayer for protection against danger.  One is a rather old-fashioned prayer for the Queen. That is usually extended into a prayer for people in responsible positions, like the Prime Minister and even the local council. There is also a great prayer about "all sorts and conditions of men"... in which there is often a pause where you can name people or matters you want prayer for.
                And it all finishes with a Blessing that comes straight from the Bible.
                So, where do you hear from "The Word of God"?  Is that what you are asking?  Well, the whole lot is based on the Bible, or quotes directly from the Bible, but just so the Minister gets a go, there is time for a Sermon.  Which is based on the Readings.  Of Course..... but the minister can choose different readings, if he wants to, because even though there is a recommendation, they are not set in cement.  
More about the Services: 
There are two main types, so you either Do, or Don't have a Communion Service.  Cathedrals always have at least one Communion Service on Sunday and at least one during the week, but small churches, particularly branch churches, only have Communion once a month. What's Communion?  It's where you celebrate Jesus' Last Supper with his disciples.  If you are a young Sydney Anglican and you've never done this, then find a church where they do it and go along.

More about the Readings:
                The readings that are set for Non-Communion services are on a yearly cycle, and are different in the evening to the morning. So if you read the four readings for every day of the week, then you read nearly all the New Testament, and a lot of the Old Testament in a year. And you do it in a way that links them together.  
                The readings set for Communion Services are on a three year cycle, so you get the same set of readings every three years. 
Purpose of the readings: 
We all know about Christmas and Easter, but there are lots of other times of year that are celebrated in other churches, and which are often ignored in Anglican churches in Sydney.  

One of the things that the readings do is guide you through the Year of the Church and give you something different to think about in each season.  
                So the Year doesn't start at New Year, or even at Christmas. It starts 4 weeks before Christmas with Advent (Advent Calendars, right?). That's 4 weeks preparation... for what?  Christmas Beano? ...Nope!... 4 weeks thinking about the return of Christ!  Hey, that's scary!  4 whole weeks being told "Prepare the way! Get your act together! Jesus is coming!"  
                Then you get Christmas and we all know about that.  
                But after Christmas, the Bible readings give you, in order, Stephen the First Martyr, The Day of St John the Evangelist, the Massacre of the Babies of Bethlehem, the presentation of Jesus at the Temple and, on the twelfth day of Christmas,  the Wise Men.  (Hey, weren't they at Christmas?  No!)  Then there are a series of Bible readings which describe the teachings of Jesus and important aspects of Christian living such as Faith, Hope and Love; trusting in the Lord, following his way, and proclaiming the Gospel.
                From there, the year moves on, reminding you for 40 days before Easter, that you must repent, put yourself aside, think of others and prepare. These 40 days are called Lent. 
                But the 40 days are broken up by a bit of rejoicing!  Palm Sunday!  Does your church do Palm Sunday, and get all the Sunday School and creche kids into church, waving branches and shouting Hosanna!?  If not, do it next year!  
                Easter starts on the Thursday night when you celebrate Jesus' last Supper.  By tradition, the service ends with everyone leaving quietly, not shaking hands, and all the lights of the church going out one by one.  Some churches also celebrate the way Jesus washed his disciples' feet, by having the minister and members of the Congregation wash each other's feet.  It's a really good opportunity to make up with someone you've been in a state of conflict with.  
                On Friday, you are back at church again.  This time there is no Communion.  Many churches do a very long prayer, called the Litany, which the congregation joins in, to ask for God's mercy.  A very special part of this service is the reading of the Gospel, which is the longest reading of the year, and tells the story of the betrayal, trial and crucifixion.  Some churches like to do this reading dramatically with several readers, and with the whole congregation taking the part of the mob that shouts "Crucify him!" 
                Then of course, Easter Sunday is the big day of rejoicing!  
                So what do you have to think about after Easter?  The readings go on to lead you through the celebration of Jesus' Ascension, through Jesus' teachings, and through the coming of the Holy Spirit.   
Other days are set to remember certain concepts like the Holy Trinity, and the life and witness of particular saints, both saints from the Bible, like Peter and Paul, and other people who lived wonderful Christian lives, like St Francis of Assisi.  The 1st of November celebrates All Hallows' Day in honour of all the Christian people who have lived before us.  (Halloween means All Hallows' Eve)  And then, after the Day of Christ the King, you are back to Advent again. 

So how does a liturgical service differ from a non-liturgical service?
                You, the church member, always get to thank, praise, humbly confess sins, boldly state your faith, join in with the prayer that Jesus taught, listen to at least 2 Bible readings and a prayer that are thematically linked. You always get to participate.
                If the preacher is a hopeless preacher, or you really don't agree with their particular slant on the word of God, well, it doesn't matter quite so much, because the liturgy itself has real Bible teaching.  The success of the teaching doesn't just depend on the talent of the person who is up the front.
                It is a God focussed service that takes the emphasis off the personal skills and personal charisma of the person leading the service.

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Is this REALLY the face of Jack the Ripper?

I have observed with a growing sense of alarm,  the highly selective processes employed by those who create forensic reconstructions of faces.  

On 30th August 2011, on the eve of the broadcast of episode four of the TV program National Treasures Live, the BBC published an article about the recent forensic reconstruction of the face of a man thought by some to have been Jack the Ripper. 

The article, written by Dr Xanthe Mallett of the University of Dundee, with additional reporting by Megan Lane, describes the investigations and conclusions of Ripper expert Trevor Marriott, a former homicide squad detective. 

Of the 200 suspects for the gruesome series of murders committed in 1888, one of the most likely is Carl Feigenbaum, a German merchant seaman whose ship was in port at the time of each murder, and who was executed in the United States in 1896 for the murder of his landlady, having confessed to suffering from frequent bouts of insanity in which her felt an uncontrollable urge to kill women.   Feigenbaum's lawyer believed him to be Jack the Ripper.  

There is a fairly detailed police description of Feigenbaum, including, for the benefit no doubt of the executioner, a description of his neck.  Trevor Marriott has used this description to create an "e-fit", a image of what the face of Feigenbaum might have looked like.  There is no known photograph of him, and all the evidence of his appearance comes from the description.  

The description is as follows: 

Age 54. Complexion med[ium]. Eyes grey. Hair dark brown. Stature 5ft 4 1/2. Weight 126 [pounds, 57kg]. Medium sized head, hat 6 7/8 or 7. Shoes 8.  Hair grows thin on top of head. Small slim neck. Eyes small and deep-set. Eyebrows curved. Forehead high and heavily arched. Nose large, red and has raw pimples. Teeth poor + nearly all gone on left sides.  Anchor in india ink on right hand at base of thumb and first finger. Round scar or birthmark on right leg below left knee. 

And here is the "likeness" that has been produced from it. 

The following are my observations and serious concerns: 

1.  The representation of Carl Feigenbaum obviously  uses as its basis a generic "German" face.  

 However, Feigenbaum is a Jewish name, and (not surprisingly) the majority of Feigenbaums who appeared when I conducted a Google image search had faces which were long rather than short and broad.  Some of those Feigenbaums had VERY long faces.  

Although Carl Feigenbaum's religion is given as Catholic, his father's line is almost certainly Jewish.   And as the Nazis went to very great lengths to point out,  there are generally discernible physiognomic differences between an ethnic German and an ethnic Jew.   In this case, the wrong model has been used as the basis for the reconstruction. 

2. The weight given for Feigenbaum is at the lighter end of normal.  In the US at the present time his weight would put him in the 5th percentile for height.  (But this probably doesn't reflect the situation in 1898).  Regardless of this, Feigenbaum was a slight man, not a beefy one.  

3. The description states that Feigenbaum had a ''small slim neck".  This reinforces the fact that he was of slight build.  However the forensic reconstruction gives the man a neck the same width as his wide jaw.  

4. Feigenbaum is described as having DARK brown hair.  While the website picture is black and white, it is still clear that the man in the reconstruction has LIGHT hair, the colour which hairdressers designate as "blonde", "ash blonde" or "dark blonde" but certainly not fitting the description "dark brown".  

5. The hair is described as "the hair grows thin on top of head".  In other words, Feigenbaum's hair was NOTICEABLY thinning on top.  In the reconstruction, the hair may be a little thinner, but not to the extent that would be used to describe a distinguishing characteristic of a man.  If the description says "thin", then the thinness must be clearly apparent.  

6. The size of the "curved" eyebrows is minimised.  They are the sort of fairish eyebrows one would expect on a blonde German, but not someone who had "dark brown" hair. 

7.  The forehead is indeed shown large in the reconstruction, but again, it is a forehead  that fits with the "Aryan" Arnold Schwartzenegger image of a Germanic person,  not a large "heavily arched" forehead. 
8.  The eyes are small in the reconstruction, but not "deep set"  as they are described.  The eyes conform to a "German" model, not to those of a person of Jewish descent.

9.  The nose in the reconstruction is largish, in the context of a Germanic face where noses are often rather short.  It is not the sort of nose that would be described as "large" if it was on a somewhat narrower and longer face.  The redness and pimples are not apparent at all. 

10.  The size of the nose is countered by the fact that (through the use of a broad Germanic template) the top lip is represented as long by comparison to the other features.  In fact, if the nose is proportionally  "large" then the upper lip will generally appear short by comparison, and may in fact be shorter than average. 

11.  The shape of the mouth is very well defined around the outer rim.  This is a characteristic which (if it exists in the first place) diminishes with age.  Since the mouth is not remarked on in the description, ( which is fairly careful) we can probably presume that it was a very ordinary sort of mouth for a 54 year old man.   

12. There is little or no indication in the reconstruction that this man has missing teeth.  The left side of his face would be noticeably thinner and more hollow than the right. If he has retained teeth on the right side (which the description indicates) then the process of chewing would have made the muscles stronger on the right, and the jaw somewhat collapsed on the left.  The forensic artist has slightly tilted the mouth upward on the left side,  contrary to the evidence that the mouth would be inclined to droop on the left, as a result of the loss of teeth. 

13.  The chin of the reconstruction has been given a cleft.  This isn't in the description, and since cleft chins occur in a minority, rather than a majority of people, depicting this individual with a cleft chin, in the absence of written evidence, is much more likely to be wrong than right.  

14. Feigenbaum was 54 and has been at sea.  The face in the reconstruction is that of a 54 year old who has lived his life in a 20th century environment of controlled temperatures.  He needs to look like someone who has weathered a few storms. 

My concerns in this matter go far beyond the question of what Carl Feigenbaum looked like, and whether or not he was Jack the Ripper.  Feigenbaum has been executed for his crimes, and any error made 100 years later can have little effect, even upon his reputation.  

However, I have observed with a growing sense of alarm,  the highly selective processes employed by those who create reconstructions.  

There was recently an attempt to "recreate the appearance of Jesus".  I will publish my analysis of this as a separate blog.   The main point to be made here is that the scientists doing the "reconstruction" made a series of choices, some of which were made in the light of strongly conflicting evidence, for example given a long skull and a short skull, they selected the short one; give a portrait with pale skin and a portrait with dark skin they selected the dark one.  In other words, the final image which was nothing like the traditional image of Jesus would have been very like the traditional image of Jesus is the scientists had chosen the other option in each case. 

So when forensic scientists, through a series of personal selections, and a series of choices to ignore valuable evidence,  present a completely false image of a famous person,  one begins to worry. 

Forensic science has chosen to present a highly questionable image of Jesus to the world.   
Forensic science has now presented an undoubtedly false image of one of history's most notorious murderers to the world.  

In both these cases the faces and the stories of their "recreation" have been blathered all over the media!  

What next?    No.....

The question really is:  WHO next?  Whose image do forensic scientists next get horribly horribly wrong?  

Will it be some black lad from Birmingham on a rape charge?  Will it be some Moslem kid from Manchester on a GBH?  Will it be some Eastern European immigrant on an abduction?  

Saturday, 3 September 2011

My Amazing Day, 24th February, 1978

for my cousin, Peri Lawlor

On the dawn of my thirtieth birthday the sun was heralded by a dim red glow on the curved horizon of the world. It grew in brightness till it equalled in splendour the blazing torches of the Persian Gulf strung out in a long chain of birthday candles in the blackness far below. The night had been endless, relieved only by the radiance of the Southern Cross which had appeared in my window as the plane rose up from Hong Kong and accompanied me all the way to Bombay, hanging above my left shoulder like a flag on a backpack. A dim light illuminated the enamelled Rolls Royce insignia emblazoned as a reassurance on the engine.
As the sun slowly rose, breakfast was served and cleared away. Then all blinds were lowered for the ritual of the Movie. This sent me into a state of trauma. Beneath me the Cradle of Civilization was slipping away unseen. I buzzed for a steward and begged that I might exchange my seat with someone further forward for whom Hollywood was more of a reality than Babylon and Byzantium. 
So I looked out on the Land of the two Rivers, feasted my eyes on the meanders and ox-bow lakes of the Tigris and Euphrates and thought of all that Mr Jenkins had taught me in my first year High School History class and all that Mrs Wright had taught me in third year Geography. Then I was borne across Anatolia and saw the roads and villages, farms and ancient tells. Snow lay in pink patches on the mountains. As the sky turned from gold to blue a huge conical peak appeared mauve like a dream on the horizon. Rising above a sea of cloud, as in the World’s oldest story it had risen out of the waters of the flood, this could only be Ararat.  At Frankfurt, the plane was filled with the irresistible smells of pastries and coffee that was really hot.
My friend Robert Dein, sporting a moustache, was at Heathrow to envelop me in hugs and wish me a Happy Birthday. At Victoria we caught a real, black, London taxi-cab with a driver who never stopped talking and who took us to the Tavistock Hotel by the scenic route, The Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus and the British Museum. Robert sat in the hotel foyer while I showered and propped my eyelids open.
“Where would you most like to go, in London, on your birthday?” asked Robert. From half a world away one place called more than any other, the National Gallery! We caught a red bus and rode on the top deck.
What a joy for me to stand for the first time before Titians and Tintorettos, Rembrandts and Vermeers, Poussins and Monets; to peer into the minute world of the Wilton Diptych and Van Eyck’s Wedding of the Arnolfini, to enter the holy space of Leonardo’s Virgin of the Rocks and Piero della Francesca’s Baptism of Jesus. 
When at last we left the gallery, Trafalgar Square was shining in the rain. Not having any crumbs, we chased the pigeons, sending them in a great spiralling grey cloud up and up, higher than Nelson on his column and then soaring down again against the background of white water, red buses and colonnaded buildings. The serene interior of St Martin’s in the Fields smelt warmly of old hymn books, straw-filled hassocks and polished wood. Robert was the perfect companion.
As my state of happy exhaustion sank into a condition of exalted stupor, Robert led me to a favourite Tea Shop where I collapsed into a corner seat and gazed out over the glinting rattle of glass, silver and china. I don’t know what I ate for my birthday tea. I just seem to remember that a young man called Lindsay was there, once a little golden-haired boy that I had taught in Sunday School, now grown tall and handsome, and like Robert, trying his luck in the theatre scene in London.
At nine o’clock Greenwich Mean Time, I stood in Tavistock Square and looked up at the hotel. My room was on the fourth floor. You could tell. This daughter of a distant sunburnt colony had left the window open. I sank happily into a damp bed and let visions of Madonnas and Mountains, Rainbow Arks and Golden-haired Cherubs on pigeons’ wings weave themselves into a glorious tapestry of dreams.

© Tamsyn Taylor December 1999 
Picture of Mt Ararat from Wikimedia Commons: 

Coniston Bakery, steak and onion pie, vintage 2011

This pie starts with a most rich and tempting aroma of gravy and onion.
Its appearance is good, the colour graded by time in the oven.
The texture is quite luscious. One is struck immediately by the crispness of the flaky pastry. There is a good robust meaty body and a short crust finish which is the mark of a true vintage pie, and highly reminiscent of the old Lithgow Pie Shop.
This pie has a warm blend of flavours which is not too subtle.  It begins with the onion which strikes the palate quite sharply and sets off the rich mellowness of the ground steak which follows. There is a decided bouquet garni and a certain pepperiness about it which is very pleasant and reminds of the old Cameron’s Bakery at Penrith.  The quality of beefiness is excellent and lingers on the tongue after the pie is finished. This pie could be eaten on its own but would also be the perfect accompaniment to a plate of mashed potato and peas dressed with tomato sauce or perhaps a fresh leafy salad.

(C) Tamsyn Taylor 2011

Friday, 2 September 2011

Winter into Spring