A cause of rejoicing

The weathermen reckon it's a sunny day. They've clearly not looked outside the windows round here. At least it's not raining and it is very mild.

Nonetheless there's sunshine in the Foxes' den. A few minutes before 9am this morning, the phone rang. The hospital with the biopsy results. Typical cyst so there's nothing more to be done, beyond, that is, a recall in a further 4 months' time just to check on things. What a relief! When I hadn't heard yesterday I began to get quite anxious. Clearly they probably tried when we were out doing the food shop, so left it until today before trying again. Whatever the reason, the result is much jubilation in the Foxes' den.

To celebrate we're having some plaice for dinner. It's not often I buy plaice, but for once they were decent sized fillets.

I always associate plaice with my Mum & medical problems. Whenever we were ill as children, my mother's solution for something light & easily digestible to tempt us back to eating solids again, was plaice. She always just seasoned them, dotted them with butter & popped them in the oven - just the thing for jaded appetites. Usually followed by instant whip or ice cream.

The other time I associate plaice with medical problems concerned my regular trips into the Eye Hospital in Manchester. I had an eye op when I was about 4. From then on, until I was in my early teens, I went for regular check-ups. My reward for good behaviour was that afterwards we would go into the city centre for lunch. For me it was always breaded plaice with a cherryade to drink with it. Cherryade was something you just couldn't get at our local shops so it seemed really exotic.

On this occasion, I've skinned the fish. Later on I will spread some dressed crab on the fillets, top them with wilted spinach, roll them up & pop them in the oven.

Tins of dressed crab also have family associations. My Uncle John always had a soft spot for my Mum & knew she loved fish despite my father's reservations on the matter. He had a corner shop, that subsequently became a small supermarket as times changed. Some of the time during the war, whenever she was based in Stoke, my Mum had worked for Uncle John. After the war, long after rationing had ceased, some foods remained scarce and/or very expensive. One year this small tin arrived in the post. It was Uncle John sending her a tin of dressed crab. It was delicious. From then on he sent regular supplies. My brother took after my father in his reservations about fish so he was never bothered about crab in any form, but for my mother & I it was real treat.