I have most likely told this story before but it merits telling again. It is one of my earliest memories - I can't have been more than four because we moved house when I was four and it was before we moved because we had a garden which was visible from the kitchen window. My father grew vegetable marrows (mother made a delicious stuffed marrow - the recipe for which I still use) and any which were surplus at the end of the season were hung under the bottom pantry shelf in string bags, to be used in Winter. Mother was checking them one day and saw that one had gone rotten. She brought it out into the kitchen. Father was working in the garden and she speculated on whether she could hit him with it if she threw it. She did and she could - it hit him fair and square on the back of his neck as he bent down. He came in with the rotten remnants, laid my mother on the kitchen table and covered her from head to toe in bits of rotten marrow. I can still hear her shrieks to this day and I can remember jumping up and down and shouting.
So today in her honour I cooked for my lunch what she so often cooked for me when - after I had left home- I popped in to see them. Egg, chips and peas. Sadly it was not as good. The eggs were from our farm, where the people who bought it have a flock of hens and brought me some only laid yesterday (they were delicious); the chips were oven chips - quite good but not like mothers which would be father's potatoes, chipped and friend in beef dripping, and peas - today Bird's Frozen Garden Peas - mother's would again have been father's or, when they had finished for the season they would have been dried peas, soaked and then cooked slowly in the side oven of the open fire grate. No comparison - add to this that one's taste buds get feebler when old age sets in. So pleasant lunch but no comparison - just happy memories of what it used to be.
And speaking of memories - not taste this time but smell. I never ever smell Dettol without being reminded of walking into the Maternity Hospital heavily into labour with my son - the whole place smelt of Dettol. That's two of my senses which seem to still be functioning properly. What about you - have you any memories prompted by your senses? If so - do tell.