White Pudding




The last blog was about family history and this one is too. Read it as a challenge.


As I grow older I find myself wondering if some of my childhood memories are true or just things I’ve conjured up in my mind. As I have outlived both my brothers, I have no-one to confirm or deny these memories. I’ve decided that I will share some of them with my children and grandchildren for, if I don’t, they will die with me.


One such memory is of a pudding Mum used to make called White Apple. It was made with apples stewed under a white doughball kind of mix and cooked in a pan with a tight-fitting lid. Timing was everything as the top had to be just cooked when the lid was lifted or it all went wrong. I’ve still not worked out the recipe!


If it is important to pass on a recipe, how much more important it is to pass on the Gospel.


The last one left


It’s a strange thing

being the last one left,

the last one left

of a family of three.


For as long as I remember

I had a brother on either side.

Now there is no-one,

there in no-one

to check out my memories.


Did Dad actually say that?

Did Mum really make a pudding

called white apple?

Did the three of us

argue as much as I think we did

before the truce,

the truce

that grew into friendship?


I will believe my memories

and pass some of them on.

If I don’t,

if I don’t

no one will know about white apple.


Written for the Scottish Fellowship of Christian Writers and used by kind permission.

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