Cherry Rock Buns
As a child I used to devour Enid Blyton books. I love the ones about the fairies and gnomes and wishing trees . . . but I especially loved the adventure books and the ones about kids in boarding schools with tuck boxes and tea time treats and picnic fare which sounded to me to be exotic. Sausage rolls and pork pies, cherry cakes and ginger beer. Wobbly blanc manges. Tinned and potted meat spread onto hugs slabs of homemade bread . . . jam sandwiches, gingernuts, fruit jellies. Rock cakes. It was all so deliciously tempting sounding, and I dreamt about what it might be like to gorge myself on such a wonderous feast. Yes , , , for me it has always been a out the food. We didn't have such things at home. None of our meat came from tins and we were never allowed to gorge ourselves on fruit jellies and sausage rolls or wobbly blanc manges. We were never allowed to gorge ourselves on anything. My mother's idea of a...