I'm now back in England and, funnily enough, beside the sea.
Something about being close to the water as winter melts into spring; the days still carrying a chill in the air and blanketed in a slight mist takes me back to my childhood holidays spent on Weston-Super-Mare.
The Seagull perched on my hotel window sill in the quiet early morning made me feel like I'd easily been transported to another time and place.
It's not often nowadays that I'm surrounded by this much Englishness and when I am, I seem to re-discover distant memories of a life that seems almost as if I never lived it.
These memories of childhood, the sea, and seagulls invariably take me back to another one - one of crumpets; weird connection I know.
Basically as a youngster I ate a lot of crumpets; but never, that I can remember, in my adult life. Which is why memories of my childhood always bring back memories of crumpet-eating.
So as I am in England I try this decidedly English breakfast delicacy.
In their small surface area and dense package they provide a complexity and unexpectedness in flavour. The slight sourness and bitter bite incased in such a tame-looking shell really does seem to explain why this most simple of foodstuffs can trigger such strong recollections in me.
I'm no fan of butter so I devoured this traditional treat in a very non-traditional way; smothered in marmalade.
The Bread Loaver