Toast

For the first time in a while, we made some toast with one of our heritage, telescopic toasting forks this afternoon, probably acquired at a car boot sale at Hook Road Arena. Heritage because they are more or less identical - in my memory at least - to the fork used for making toast at family gatherings, on Sunday afternoons, at The Thorpe, in Hemingford Grey. Around sixty years ago now, a time when it was still a village cul-de-sac, rather than a dormitory housing estate - mostly built on a field once owned by the owner of the fork.

The toast was made with some interesting ryeish-bread, sold sliced and said to be from the Netherlands. A very fine grained, smooth sort of bread - which, as it turned out, made rather good toast. Served with butter and honey. We were joined by various dolls, animals and cushions.

A bit fake, as this fire is more for appearances than heat, and not as hot as the real gas fire used at The Thorpe. A fire in which the gas jets played up a complicated, white ceramic fireback which soaked up the heat nicely. Nevertheless, this fake did make toast - and one was glad enough of the long spoon, as it were.

I had thought that I had come across such a gas fire with such a fireback not that many years ago, and posted it, but not a trace to be found this evening.

Reference 1: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/01/suburban-bliss.html. A fake from before the time at which the series of fakes was inaugurated, as can be seen at reference 2.

Reference 2: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/08/fake-2.html.

Reference 3: http://psmv2.blogspot.com/2012/12/memory-lane.html. A visit to The Thorpe. But no mention of toast.