Letter From The Other Side from Cynthia.
Written by Elizabeth. M. Thompson.

Dear Del,
Do you like scones? I know that is rather a strange question but our neighbour who spends a lot of his time propping up our front gate while enjoying ‘blokey’ talk with Teddy is a very good scone maker.
He will sometimes come across and give us half a dozen of his light fluffy creations and I swap them for a jar of my home made jam or pickle.

Now whether you call then scones with a short O or scones with a lengthened O they have been a great boon to many a harassed housewife over the years who has had the misfortune to be greeted by the wide smiles of unexpected guests on her front door step.
We all enjoy strolling around the shops or beachside antique places and stopping for a creamy Devonshire Tea. Well anyone of baby-boomer or an older age admits to liking all that lovely jam and cream. I think the younger generations do also but it just isn’t ‘cool’ to admit to liking what the ‘wrinklies’ like is it?

Scones have risen to political heights in this country.
Who will ever forget the homely country wife of a certain northern state premier who was renowned for her pumpkin scones? Her recipe circulated the nation and many were the times she was seen on television espousing the taste and nourishment they provided.
Marrying her was probably one of the few wise things that man ever did. He must have blessed her handing her pumpkin scones about during official meetings of his ever so slightly corrupt government. These delicacies were so good they obviously diverted the attention of many within the government and law enforcement agencies who failed to notice the number of small paper bags containing sweeteners which were also exchanging hands.

I am not a good scone maker. My mother always said they needed a light touch. I have a feeling my touch must be in the heavyweight division because they always end up suitable for shipping ballast or perhaps golf practice.

I did make one very good batch many years ago and was so thrilled with my fluffy and perky creations I even had the nerve to take them placed upon a pretty plate to the sort of meeting where we were all required to ‘bring a plate’.
I knew what was in them but when everyone said how light and tasty they were I didn’t share the information that the secret ingredient of their splendour was probably the result of my mistakenly including the milk mixture in the fridge which had been prepared to be given to the orphaned lambs we had in the paddock. It was approved veterinary powdered milk and no one suffered any problems that I became aware of during the next week.

As far as I can recall the worst batch I have ever been guilty of producing, was when William was about fifteen or sixteen.
He stood in the kitchen twitching his eyebrows about at the sight of the flour dusted river pebbles I appeared to have made and suggested they would make good targets for his air rifle.
So out we went and set them up along a fence.
Now William is a very competitive lad and he wanted to show his mum just how good he was with this rifle. His hand eye co-ordination is excellent and even at that young age he was a star bowler for the state ‘under sixteen’ cricket team and had the bragging privileges in the local club of being able to say he had bowled his English father out by breaking his big toe.
But his mum is a competitive lady and shot her first rabbits and foxes, (those awful English imports which have devastated the country in plagues) when she was twelve.
He shot two or three times without even dusting any of the flour from the surfaces. I took over and showed him how to do it by shattering one of them into shrapnel.
He couldn’t believe his old mum could beat him so he tried again causing not a flutter by the scones. My next shot stuck inside the doughy centre of one specimen.
We eventually agreed, I was a good shot and the scones were really dreadful.

Over the years, I have been given all sorts of tips and recipes but to no avail so I have not made any for quite some time. However, it occurred to me this morning, my skill may come in handy as we have some English visitors due this week and after the mauling their cricket team gave us in the Ashes, they will be full of glee, lots of quick repartee and ready to share it with us. I think I may make some scones. They are a guaranteed way to wipe the smiles from the happiest of faces pretty smartly as their jaws grow tired crunching away at the rocky textures.
The mixture may even exhilarate their digestions for a few days as has been known to happen in the past.
I can think of one or two people we know in England I’d be happy to post some to as well but the weight would make the postage prohibitive. Pity about that.
Your competitive ‘flower child friend’
Cynthia.