Georgina

We have snow again, and plenty of it - the strong winds have been creating odd little drifts and although it is late March I'm transported back to December somehow. I had a wonderful childminder growing up - she was, and is - truly one of a kind. An Irish woman from county Cork with a heart the size of the moon and occasionally a very matter of fact turn of phrase. At Georgina's we would spend days like today building indoor forts of blankets and sofa cushions, hanging out by the log burner munching toast and playing Contraband, or bundling up in ski jackets to brave the cold and bounce on the snowy trampoline in the garden. There were endless snowball fights and soggy walks home from school which meant squeaky shoes and wet socks in the porch then a race for the comfiest chair by the log burner. The kitchen was a place of wonder and there was always something bubbling away on top of the stove or baking inside it; we made biscuits and bread, dropped scones and fairy cakes, tarts and even doughnuts. Christmas was a riot of badly topped mince pies, cheese straws and cards sporting lollystick frames around cut-outs from the previous year's festive brochures. Pancake day equalled barely contained pandemonium in which we'd all queue up eager to help stir the mixture and flip our own pancakes before Georgina slid them deftly onto our plates, it inevitably lead to some batter based disasters, I vividly remember only narrowly avoiding wearing Jonathan's pancake when he got a little overenthusiastic with the flipping action.
Random recollections but I often think of Georgina on snowy days!