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August 16, 2007
Literary comfort food –

Piping hot sausages.

Browning, popping, hissing, whistling, spattering in the frying pan. Afternoon tea or hearty breakfast.

Piping hot sausages.

The worlds dance in my head as the grease crackles and spits. My imagination is caught on the delicious scent and simply the idea of them. As they cook, I travel childhood’s pathways, through Mr Tumnus’ cave; Sara and Becky’s hungry, shared attic dreams; Tolly’s grandmother’s stone kitchen, in the company of the house’s earlier children; Dickon’s overcrowded family cottage; and the home where Will Stanton can sometimes forget he is the last of the Old Ones.