Jennifer Pittam

It was a surprise, and a pleasant one, to have a short piece read out by Robert Elms on his Radio London programme. Elms is a great lover of London history and of weird facts. I'm mad on them too, and I'm a long term fan of his radio show, so I guess it was only a matter of time. My article was a tiny smidgeon of a piece about the historical significance of the name 'Whetstone'. Whetstone is a part of North London, so far out it's almost in Hertfordshire. Whetstone is, supposedly, named after the stone which the soldiers used to sharpen their swords during the Battle of Barnet, in the Wars of the Roses - it was fought on nearby Barnet Common. The stone is still there, outside the Griffin Pub. Is it true? Who knows. Is it great that we treasure that kind of tale in this great City? Oh yes!

Today I signed a contract for what my Nana would have called 'The Last Resort'. I'm getting some creative counselling. In case you're wondering what's so strange about that, we don't do counselling much in Britain, even in the year 2023. Advocaat Admittedly, we've 'given in' to various practices that would have had my afore-mentioned Nana throwing her Advocaat snowball across the bar - for example, showing lots of soggy emotion, en masse, in public. We definitely didn't do that, when she was a gal. There was a time it was considered fairly disgraceful to cry at the funeral of someone you knew, never mind at the death of a random but famous stranger. Not Even at a Friend's Funeral Nor did we walk such a delicate tightrope when it came to Health & Safety. Today in the Post Office, I was thoroughly reprimanded by a counter clerk because I'd used a staple on a jiffy bag. It could, she said, cause serious harm and then the Post Office...

It's fortunate for me that one thing so often leads to another. Whilst I was in the Highlands of Scotland for a court case anyway, I got a little commission to write about marmalade. Like Paddington Bear, I've had a lifelong attraction to the stuff, so this was one I couldn't resist. Arguments abound on the internet and elsewhere about the origin of marmalade. There's little doubt that preserves containing peel were eaten, and mentioned, as early as Shakespeare's time.  However, for me the definitive story is that, in 1700, a storm-tossed ship bearing a cargo of bitter Seville Oranges took shelter in Dundee harbour, off the coast of Scotland. The ship's master sold the now damaged cargo to a local grocer, who was down on his luck and hopeful of saving the family fortune. Once he got the organges home, how many tons is not recorded, he and his wife discovered that they were too bitter to eat (wonder what she said to him? 'Wheesht, Mr Keiller,...

It's dreadfully hot, here in London (which means, not nearly as hot as in Spain, Egypt or any other hot place you can name). Very few houses here have air conditioning, because our weather is so variable that it's simply not worth the investment. So we swelter away, moaning. British people do love to moan about the weather and the TV's awash with dire warnings about the 'dangers' of the heat. In all honesty it depends how you earn your living, if you're fortunate enough to be able to do that at all. Living on the first floor as I do, very near to the outskirts of London's ancient Epping Forest, it's a pleasure to write or edit in a cool flat with all the windows open. The raucous croaks of the rooks in the nearby trees are a great backdrop for anyone writing historical fiction. Still when I'm not cavorting with corvids or editing my work in progress, I'm finding it an absolute pleasure to get out and shop, walk or write in post-pandemic c...

 I've always rather liked Battenberg cake, a peculiarly British confection made from alternating squares in pink and yellow, the whole surrounded by yellow marzipan. Heart attack on a plate? Perhaps, but like all treats it's a jolly splendid one, in moderation.  Photo by Jennifer Pittam From my writer's notebook I see that Battenberg cake was created for a royal wedding over a century ago, when the late Duke of Edinburgh's grandmother married Prince Louis of Battenberg. Apparently the sponge featured 9 panels at that time, but was simplified to four panels in the 1930s when bakeries began mass-production. It's had a sudden resurgence in popularity of late, with stylish versions in pink and green, posh-looking slices in lemon and poppy seed and even a Blue Battenberg 'just because'. My own favourites are  the batty Halloween offerings, the more lurid the better.  What a strange nation we are. Glorious Halloween Battenberg by Sprinklebakes.com I've a vorac...

Who would have thought that a year after Lockdown we would still be in it?  Photo by Jennifer Pittam Still in Lockdown, Human? We've had some easements, true, but in essence, I am writing this from home in London, with currently 127,000 deaths in the UK. A tragedy to 127,000 families, naturally - but as with war and other tragedies, there is incidental progress in science and technology - new treatments for acute respiratory illness, the painstaking work to develop a Covid-19 vaccine, the development of every possible kind of face mask and even a much more user-friendly form of video-link software called Zoom. Photo by Shutterstock As a Clerk of the Court I used the video-link only for vulnerable witnesses before 2020, but now it's routine in courts all over the land. I also attend classes in literature and creative workshops on Zoom. This week I got out my writer's notebook read from my short story, 'I Remember Very Well' at a World Book Day event hosted by Staffor...