Drink Tea and Carry On

General

February 14, 2026

Tea is a great British tradition. In times of crisis, we reach to put the kettle on. It is tea that we brew to ease the pain of a broken heart, dampen the effects of a shock, numb the pain of loss and calm frayed nerves. Tea has seen us through war, peace, joy and sadness and it is undeniably the nation’s drink of choice. Whilst chain coffee shops continue to spring up on the high street with their sentiment of froth over filling, and whilst we may all lap up their exotic offerings of air-filled milk foam and a dash of coffee, tea remains our true drink of choice.

During wartime, there was an even greater need to pop the kettle on and take comfort in a trusty cup of tea. When the Second World War broke out, there could be no doubt about the importance of tea to the British people. Many leading figures have spoken of the restorative properties of tea. According to journalist George Orwell, tea is one of the mainstays of civilisation, whilst William Gladstone noted, “If you are depressed, it will cheer you.” Even today, in times of frothy coffee and flavoured lattes, nothing can rival the ritual of tea making. Tea has seen many a Briton through a crisis, and I have always followed comedian Billy Connolly’s advice: “Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cosy, doesn’t try it on.”

The importance of tea was acknowledged by the government during both World Wars. During the Second World War, drastic action was taken to safeguard this essential morale-booster. Just two days after war broke out, the government took control of all tea stocks and ordered that the vast reserves stored in London be dispersed to warehouses outside the capital in case of bombing.

In 1940, when enemy blockades prevented ships from getting through, the Ministry of Food introduced a ration of 2oz of tea per person per week for those over the age of five. For a nation of tea drinkers, 2oz was not a lot – only enough for two or three weakly brewed cups a day.

George Orwell later published an essay called A Nice Cup of Tea in the Evening Standard newspaper, listing his eleven ‘golden rules’ for tea making. His advice included using water that is still at the point of boiling in order to make the strongest brew from the least tea, helping the 2oz ration stretch as far as possible.

For those who still struggled to make the ration last, tea could be extended with dried blackberry leaves, known as blackberry leaf tea.

Blackberry Leaf Tea

This traditional British recipe for making tea from the dried young leaves of a blackberry (bramble) bush was popular in wartime Britain.

When picking blackberry leaves for drying, select the youngest green leaves. Remove them from the spiny mid-rib and chop roughly. Arrange on kitchen towel and place in direct sunlight for an afternoon to dry. Alternatively, arrange on baking trays and place in an airing cupboard for up to five days. Once dry, store the leaves in a sealed jar.

To make the tea, place a teaspoonful of dried leaves per person into a warmed teapot. Pour over boiling water and leave to infuse for 5 minutes. Strain into a teacup and sweeten to taste.

Roasted Dandelion Root Coffee

If you were a coffee drinker in wartime Britain, it may have been some comfort that coffee was not initially rationed. However, as the war progressed, it became increasingly difficult to obtain. Many turned instead to roasted dandelion root coffee.

This drink closely resembles coffee in flavour and body when brewed properly, and it is a good use of the dandelions that spring up around the garden. Look for the biggest, thickest clumps of dandelion leaves, as these are usually fed by a large root, and dig them up.

There are no fixed quantities – the more roots you collect, the more coffee you will have to roast.

Preparing the Roots

Place the roots in a bucket of water and agitate with your hands until the water becomes muddy. Pour off the water and repeat until it runs clear. Scrub away any remaining soil.

Cut the roots into chunks with a large kitchen knife. Wash again thoroughly to avoid gritty coffee. Chop coarsely or pulse briefly in a food processor until they resemble coffee granules.

Roasting the Roots

Spread the chopped roots on a baking sheet. Roast in a moderate oven at 160°C (140°C fan, gas mark 3) for 2–3 hours, leaving the oven door slightly ajar so moisture can escape. Stir frequently with a wooden spatula to ensure even roasting.

As the roots dry, they will shrink and darken from golden to a rich coffee colour. Take care not to burn them. Once cooled, store in glass jars.

Making the Coffee

Use 1 level tablespoon of roasted dandelion root per 225ml of boiling water. Adjust quantities to taste.

Place the roasted roots and water in a saucepan and simmer gently for 10–15 minutes until you have a rich, coffee-coloured brew. Serve hot with milk and sugar, or to suit your taste.

Tip: This coffee is particularly good made entirely with milk and sweetened with honey.

If you are not feeling inspired to dig up dandelion roots or pluck blackberry leaves for your daily brew, you must at least admire the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the wartime kitchen front.

If you want to sample any of these recipes come along to the Dig for Victory Show on 13^th and 14^th June 2015, and see the cookery demonstrations where Wartime Mock Recipes are the order of the day. http://www.digforvictoryshow.com/

Daily Musings – My First Post

This is the very first post in my latest creative writing journey. If you are reading this, then I can wholeheartedly say that I am delighted. It has been more than half a decade since I last had a blog. My original blogging journey was unfortunately marked by a series of web designers who were paid to design and host my site, only to go out of business and leave me with no website and a great deal of creative work suspended in limbo. This happened three times — yes, three times — which still feels quite unbelievable. After the final setback, I felt disheartened and stepped away from blogging altogether. It wasn’t just the repeated technical disappointments that led me to stop; if I am honest, I had reached full-blown blogger burnout. I was being advised by so-called “experts” to produce more content, highly optimised content, very specific types of content — and somewhere along the way, I lost sight of why I had started. I found myself writing posts I didn’t enjoy, chasing algorithms instead of inspiration. The creative joy disappeared. My voice felt muted. I worked tirelessly, yet without purpose or fulfilment. Eventually, I began to doubt myself. I felt as though everyone else was better at blogging, that my words were not being read, that I simply wasn’t good enough. And so, I quit. Now, nearly six years later, I find myself with a brand-new, shiny blog — and I must admit, I feel a certain over-eager, slightly “puppy-ish” excitement about it (I know that’s not technically a word, but it perfectly captures the feeling). It feels wonderful to rediscover that spark. I am wiser now. I understand how easily blogging can tip from passion into pressure. My life is already full — work, home, children, the everyday chaos that so many of us juggle — and I know that overcommitting leads to stress, overwhelm and eventually creative block. This time, I am approaching things differently. This blog exists for one simple reason: to write and to share recipes. I have no grand ambitions, no external definitions of success to chase. I refuse to be drawn into what bloggers “should” do. Instead, I am focusing on what I want to do — to share snippets of my life, to express myself through food and creative projects, and to enjoy the process. When I was sixteen, I dreamed of becoming a writer. I loved creative writing. At that age, the world had not yet informed me that writing wasn’t considered a “proper” career. Slowly, I drifted towards writing serious, sensible things that people supposedly “needed” to read. Creativity took a back seat. Now, at forty-something and counting, in the midst of a lively and chaotic household, I find myself studying for a creative writing degree and returning to blogging. It has been a long, winding journey — but perhaps that is what makes it meaningful. So welcome to my new blog — a space created with the full awareness that our time is finite and that modern life is busy enough without adding unnecessary pressure. This will be a blog written for joy. A blog free from rigid expectations. A blog mindful of what can realistically be achieved in a day. I have a passion for food and creative family life. I believe great-tasting meals need not be stressful, time-consuming, or exclude children from the kitchen. I want to help others rediscover the joy in cooking and bring fun back to family mealtimes. My daily musings will be snapshots of whatever is happening — sometimes thoughtful, sometimes random, occasionally amusing. Let’s see where this takes us. This blog is my personal mission to rediscover my creative passion and reclaim my blogging mojo. Welcome to my journey.

Preserving Holiday Memories with Nostalgic Keepsakes

It doesn’t matter whether you travel to far-flung shores or spend a simple week at the seaside — if you are in good company and enjoying a wonderful holiday, it is only natural to want to preserve those special memories. While we live in a digital age where photographs are easier than ever to take and view, there is still something beautifully meaningful about traditional keepsake making. After all, cherished mementos do not always fit neatly into a photo album. Here are a few simple and creative projects to help you safeguard those precious holiday memories. Beachcombing Days There is something deeply nostalgic about beachcombing. It brings back memories of childhood holidays — sandy toes, salty air and carefree afternoons spent treasure hunting along the shore. If you beachcomb with children, you will know how quickly their pockets fill with cockle shells, pebbles and pieces of driftwood. These little finds may seem ordinary, but they are packed with memories and sentiment. Rather than casting them aside once you return home, transform them into meaningful keepsakes that allow you to revisit those sunny, simple days time and time again. Message in a Bottle Creating a message in a bottle is wonderfully simple and surprisingly charming. Save and thoroughly wash an old sauce bottle. Write a short note describing your trip — where you went, who you were with, and what made it special. Roll the paper and secure it with ribbon before placing it inside the bottle. Add a little sand, small shells or pebbles collected from your holiday. Displayed on a shelf, especially in a bathroom or hallway, these bottles become beautiful reminders of happy times and are guaranteed to spark smiles whenever you glance at them. Seashell Wreath A seashell wreath is an elegant way to showcase beach treasures and makes a lovely summery feature in your home. Materials Needed Instructions The result is both decorative and deeply sentimental. Create a Memory Box A memory box is one of the simplest and most meaningful ways to preserve holiday moments. Boarding passes, tickets, brochures and small trinkets can easily become damaged or misplaced, but a dedicated box gives them a safe home. Memory boxes can be wooden, cardboard or plastic. Personalising a box — perhaps covering a shoe box with decorative paper or fabric — makes it even more special. You might dedicate separate boxes to weddings, childhood memories or annual holidays. Include tickets, menus, postcards, small souvenirs and even diary entries. On rainy afternoons or quiet evenings with a cup of tea, opening your memory box can transport you back in time. You may be surprised at how many forgotten details come flooding back. In a world where so much of our lives are stored digitally, creating physical keepsakes offers something wonderfully tangible and heartfelt. Hopefully these ideas will inspire you to capture your holiday memories in a nostalgic and meaningful way — preserving them not just for today, but for many years to come.

Traditional Remedies that Every Parent Should Know

There is something very comforting about using home remedies that have been passed down through the generations. When you become a parent, you often find yourself turning to traditional cures your mother or grandmother once used — honey and lemon for a sore throat, soothing teas for colds — perhaps because you remember how gentle, comforting and effective they felt. As a parent, minor ailments are inevitable: cuts, bruises, nettle stings, coughs or tummy upsets. Discovering simple plant-based remedies that can be made at home can be incredibly helpful. With growing awareness around antibiotic overuse, many parents now recognise that for minor conditions, natural remedies can often be a supportive first step. For centuries, families relied on plant-based treatments for everyday illnesses. These gentle yet effective remedies are now enjoying a renewed interest. Healing Touch Massage is deeply relaxing, and gentle baby massage can help ease colic and restlessness. Warm a small egg-cup of grape-seed oil by standing it in warm water. Add one drop of pure Roman chamomile essential oil and mix well. Lay your baby on a warm towel across your lap. Using gentle strokes, massage from fingers along the limbs towards the heart. Use light circular motions over the tummy. Follow your baby’s cues and reactions throughout. Turn your baby over and gently massage either side of the spine and down the back. Finish by wrapping your baby warmly. This soothing routine can help relaxation, encourage sleep and provide beautiful bonding time. Rose Hip Tonic Rose hip syrup was once commonly given to children as a vitamin boost. While the syrup fell out of favour due to sugar concerns, rose hips themselves remain rich in vitamin C. To make Rose Hip Tonic: Pour the water over the rose hips and cinnamon. Leave for 10 minutes, then strain. Add a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Sweeten lightly with honey if needed. Serve warm as a tea. Marigold Rinse – For Minor Skin Complaints Pot marigold has long been valued for its soothing and cleansing properties. To make Marigold Wash:Place 125g fresh marigold heads (or 50g dried) in a jug and cover with one pint of boiling water. Allow to cool, then strain. Use to gently bathe minor cuts, grazes, sore skin or eczema.For insect stings or inflammation, mix the rinse with equal parts cider vinegar and apply with clean cotton wool. Lemon Barley Water – A Traditional Kitchen Remedy When children have tummy upsets, staying hydrated is essential. Lemon barley water is refreshing and gentle. To make:Cover 125g pearl barley with water and bring to the boil. Strain. Return barley to the pan with 1½ pints cold water and the grated rind of one unwaxed lemon. Simmer gently until barley is cooked, topping up water as needed. Cool, strain the liquid and sweeten lightly with honey if desired. Serve chilled. Simple Kitchen Remedies PMS Salad A vitamin-rich salad with gentle diuretic properties. Ingredients (a handful of each): Dressing: Combine salad ingredients in a bowl. Mix dressing separately and drizzle over. Enjoy daily as part of meals. Milk Aid for Nursing Mothers Fennel has traditionally been used to support nursing mothers. Fennel Tea:Crush 40g fennel seeds and cover with 1 pint boiling water. Leave 10 minutes, strain and drink up to three times daily. Garlic Remedy Garlic has long been valued as a traditional household remedy. For a gentle constipation remedy:Warm 1 cup milk, add 5 peeled garlic cloves and simmer for 3 minutes. Bring gently to the boil, strain and drink before bedtime. More families today are turning to simple, natural solutions for minor ailments. However, any child with persistent sickness, diarrhoea, pain or fever lasting more than 24 hours should be seen by a doctor. If you are ever concerned about your child’s health, seek medical advice promptly. For mild complaints and everyday first aid, traditional remedies can offer comfort and reassurance. Your kitchen and garden may hold more healing wisdom than you realise — and exploring these remedies can be both empowering and rewarding.

Marvellous Marmalade

I must confess that the arrival of Seville oranges is a joyous occasion in my household and, for marmalade makers across the country, the unveiling of these rough, lumpy and acidic fruits is cause for celebration. As soon as I get my hands on the first Seville oranges of the season, everyone who knows me understands that all my spare time will be spent squeezing and slicing, boiling and setting, and that my kitchen will be transformed into a marmalade-making factory. As the scent of tangy citrus and bubbling sugar fills the house, I am in preserving heaven. Sometimes I think I enjoy making marmalade more than eating it — but then a slice of my marmalade cake quickly casts doubt on that verdict. I love the fragrance of sharp zest filling a room. I find the slow shredding of peel and pith more relaxing than meditation, and the gentle alchemy of sugar transforming into bittersweet loveliness ensures that each morning I have jars of glistening amber to spread upon my toast. Each year brings new lessons. While the standard formula — twice the weight of sugar to fruit, the correct ratio of water and a patient boil — reliably produces success, I like to experiment, adding twists and new flavours to familiar recipes. The Origins of Marmalade The history of marmalade is wrapped in charming tales. One of my favourites claims marmalade as a Scottish invention, attributed to Janet Keiller, wife of a Dundee grocer in the late eighteenth century. The story tells that her husband purchased a cheap cargo of bitter oranges at the port of Dundee, only to find them unpalatable. Janet, ever resourceful, transformed the “problem” fruit into a delicious orange preserve named marmalade, possibly derived from marmelos, the Portuguese word for quince paste. A variation suggests that Janet’s son carried oranges up from the beach, with his mother urging him on: “Mair, ma lad!” — hence the name. Whether fact or folklore, such stories add to marmalade’s charm — along with Paddington Bear, of course. Though I now consider myself something of a Marmalade Queen, I confess that as a child I disliked the thick-cut Seville marmalade my parents spread generously on toast. The only variety I loved was fine shred lime marmalade. Even today, lime remains one of my favourites — though it has also been my greatest challenge. Early attempts resulted in peel as tough as old leather and a murky copper colour instead of a bright, jewel-like green. The following recipe requires patience, but it is the best I have made to date — though, as always, improvements may come next season. Lovely Lime Marmalade Ingredients 8 limes2 lemonsWater1.5kg sugar Method Cut the limes in half and squeeze out the juice. Cover the skins with cold water and leave overnight in a cool place. Repeat with the lemons. Store the juice in the refrigerator. The next day, remove the skins and scrape out as much pulp, pith and pips as possible, placing them onto a square of muslin. Tie into a small bag with string. Finely shred the skins as evenly as possible. Measure the reserved juice and make it up to two litres with water. Place the shredded peel and liquid into a large preserving pan and bring to the boil. Reduce to a gentle simmer for about one hour, until the peel becomes soft and translucent. Avoid rapid boiling to prevent tough peel. Remove the muslin bag and set aside to cool. Add the sugar to the pan. Squeeze the cooled muslin bag into the mixture to release the pectin-rich juices. Return to the boil and simmer gently for 40–45 minutes, testing for setting point. Pour into sterilised jars and seal. It never lasts long in my house and remains a firm family favourite. Seville Orange Marmalade From ‘The Pleasure of Preserving’ This is my tried-and-tested Seville recipe, adaptable to suit mood and season. Over the years I have added liquorice extract, crushed cardamom seeds, rosemary sprigs or even fresh chillies for a savoury twist perfect with seafood or barbecues. Ingredients 12 large Seville oranges7.2 litres water5.5kg sugarJuice of 2 lemons Method Slice the oranges very thinly — the thinner, the better. Collect all pips and soak them in a little water. Place the sliced fruit in a large bowl, cover with water and leave for 24 hours. The next day, boil the fruit (including the pip liquor) for two hours until the rind is soft. Add the sugar and stir until dissolved. Boil for a further 1½ hours, stirring continuously during the final 30 minutes. Add the lemon juice. Pour into sterilised jars and seal. Quince Marmalade No marmalade article would be complete without quince — the fruit that lies at the heart of marmalade’s origins. This version produces a deep red-amber preserve with a thick texture and firm set. Perfect with cheese or sausages. Ingredients 500g quinces350g sugarCold water Method Wash the quinces and slice thinly, skins on. Place in a preserving pan and cover with just enough cold water to cover the fruit. Simmer gently for 40 minutes. Pass the pulp through a sieve, discarding skin, pips and cores. Return the pulp to a clean pan, add sugar and stir over medium heat until dissolved. Simmer gently for 15–20 minutes until setting point is reached. Watch carefully to avoid burning. As the World’s Original Marmalade Awards held at Dalemain Mansion in Cumbria begins to accept entries for their annual marmalade festival, I must admit that I have been thinking a lot about my entries. I have been experimenting in the kitchen with recipes that include quinces, medlar fruits, lemons and oranges. An array of herbs and spices are at my disposal in my quest to create something different, but I have been tempted to recreate a recipe for Tudor Marmalade that includes rose water and Ambergris (a solid waxy substance produced in digestive system of sperm whales that is vomited and highly prized by perfumers for

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