Clotted cream

As I said, yesterday I went with my daughter Emma down to Devon to see my mum where she lives in a state of bewilderment in a care home.
Emma does nails at the moment, so my mum is going to be double bewildered trying to figure out how her nails got to be caramel brown with white polka dots.

My parents, living in Devon, were great lovers of clotted cream and would find some excuse to eat it almost every day, whether scones, fresh fruit, bottled fruit.
Dad referred to these items as 'vehicles' for the clotted cream.
Conventionally, the clotted cream is a little something to perk up the fruit or whatever. To my father's way of thinking, the vehicle was something to keep the eating of clotted cream just this side of depraved and immoral.
I once suggested that he could regard the spoon as being the vehicle. He looked at me as if I was mad and dangerous..


Bench 177