I have been having some great conversations with friends and family about foods that stand out in their memories. Sometimes these are painful or difficult memories, often they are positive, once one is remembered a great tumble of others usually emerges. It also seems to be the simple dishes that stick rather than the fancy meals.

A simple one certainly came to me, and it now feels a bit like a guilty secret. On Fridays (at least that’s how I remember it) Mum would do the shopping and she always brought home a fresh baked white loaf, it had such a wonderful smell. There was that great sense of release with the weekend ahead. I would have two thick cut slices with butter and, much to my Mum’s horror; a spread of a well-known ketchup brand, well not everyone likes that brown stuff!

This was part of a ritual that was only complete when I lay on my belly on my bed and read whatever book or comic I had to hand at the time. This was a precious time to lose myself in the words and characters on the page, to be transported to different worlds and lives. I was abroad at the time and we didn’t have TV so these were my movies, serials and soaps. I can still remember the delight of being completely absorbed and the comfort of the soft bite of bread with the slightly sharp but sweet flavour as the ketchup met my taste buds.

Having not eaten white bread like this for years I did have a certain joy when I ate the piece in the photo!