WHAT’S AGE GOT TO DO WITH IT?

I have recently been attempting to re-mortgage my home, a two-bedroom apartment in a listed building, in a very desirable Somerset village.

At the age of 64, single, with no dependants (apart from a rather naughty cat) with equity in the property, and a good credit rating, it has been proving rather difficult.

My current income does not appear to be a problem, and I have had no difficulty in meeting my mortgage commitments over the last 12 years, since moving in; what seems to be the stumbling block is my age and the lender’s obsession with my income post retirement, despite my assurance that I have no plans to retire any time soon. I work purely to fund the lifestyle to which I have happily become accustomed, one of self-indulgence balanced by significant charitable giving.

On pondering my dilemma, and having carried out minor research, I ascertained that were I in my 40s the question of ‘future’ income would not be raised. I get it that lenders will want to establish a person’s ability to keep up with mortgage payments, but I would argue that given the unstable economic environment that we have suffered for some years now, no-one’s job, and the income that goes with it, is safe. Long gone are the jobs for life on offer when I first entered into the workplace. In this hire and fire society, when organisations, whether public or private, are busily ‘transforming’ (for which read ‘redundancy’), there is very little stability in any industry.

With the average lifespan for a woman in the UK now 82.9, I have a good few years of toil left in me yet, and should I die prematurely then a lender would recoup their money on the subsequent sale of the property. In addition, had the government not kept shifting the pension goal posts for women my age I would be in the happy position of having received my pension for the last 4½ years, which at a rough estimate would have been over £30,000, instead of having to wait another year.

I spend much of my life promoting equality and the Equality Act 2010 states that ‘age discrimination’ is allowed in certain circumstances, but that it must be ‘objectively justified’, and ‘show good reason’. It seems that financial institutions, and the government consider themselves exempt from the laws that others have to adhere by. 

Time someone took some action to rectify this gross misjustice.

EVERYONE IS IN CHARGE OF THEIR OWN HAPPINESS

One of the top priorities of the new Somerset Health & Wellbeing Strategy, ‘Improving Lives’, is that ‘Somerset residents feel happy’.

During discussions, one board member said that a member of their family had stated that ‘everyone is in charge of their own happiness’.

A rather simplistic statement on the surface but we must beware of making such off-the-cuff remarks.

Happiness, and a whole raft of other emotions, is very subjective. What might make one person happy may have the opposite effect on others.

As a Samaritan and supporter of MIND in Somerset, I am all too aware of the huge part that mental well-being plays in every aspect of our lives; the decisions we make about who we live with, where we live, how we live, what we do for work and play.

How do we measure happiness though? Can we, or should we? Are our expectations too high to begin with?

Aspirational desires for organisations are laudable, and whilst it is right to have specific targets against which one can measure achievement, we must remember that statistics are just that, numbers on a page. Behind each one lies an individual, thinking, feeling, unpredictable human being, and all too often health professionals still mention ‘mental health’ as an afterthought.

No matter what is going on around us, or what our personal circumstances are, it is the resilience that good mental health brings that will ensure we have the best chance to achieve happiness, or as close to it as we can get without outside interference.

Some people seem able to get through the most traumatic experiences seemingly unscathed, on the surface at least, whilst others can fall to pieces over something perceived as minor. One of the most important things I have learnt as a Samaritan, is that it is not what I think and feel about a situation that counts, it is how the caller feels.

We all make choices in life and the impact of those choices, good and bad, can be far reaching, especially when it involves the relationships we have with others.

In addressing many of the social problems we face the solution is usually ‘education’. I firmly believe in education, but I hate being told what to do. The ‘nanny state’ approach of much of what is circulated is unlikely to appeal to the target group it is aimed at; the neediest. Our time and attention should be focused on gaining an understanding of the reasons behind the underlying behaviour.

Isolation can be a significant cause of unhappiness but the relentless move towards digitalisation only serves to exacerbate this; not everyone has the skills or inclination to work remotely. There is no substitute for personal contact. Mental health must be at the top of the agenda for all of us as it is pivotal to our survival.

WHEN THE POWER GOES TO YOUR HEAD IN THE KITCHEN

I have spent much of my life either working with or for some of the world’s most powerful people. An ‘interesting’ experience to say the least.

What really sets people apart is the way in which they deal with those in a less powerful position than themselves. I have worked from some real stinkers (having my own dubious method of dealing with them, never upset the person who is preparing your food), but what stands out are the few for whom I came to have the utmost respect.

As chef to the British Ambassador to the United Nations in New York I had the privilege of working for Sir. David Hannay. In his office environment he was thought to be a hard taskmaster but in terms of his domestic staff one could not have wished for a more considerate employer; his family were the same, never late for meals, eating anything put in front of them and always keeping us informed of any changes. Sadly, this level of consideration is rare in many working environments today, particularly in the hospitality industry.

It is a tough, constantly changing business, fraught with problems.

The trade is reliant on customers, all of whom have different expectations and who often like to give their egos an airing when dining out.

The industry is also often a haven for those who choose not to go into a more academic career. Yes, in a professional kitchen high standards of discipline are essential to achieve the standard required, but how this is achieved is perhaps not quite conventional by modern day standards, if the chef memoirs that sell like hot cakes are anything to go by.

Eighteen hour days and temperamental chefs are still the norm and some chefs have built their reputation on their aggressive behaviour. Mostly this is tolerated by those who want to bask in the glory of having worked under them, or fed by them.

The problem is that this can all too easily go to their heads. What would be considered unacceptable behaviour elsewhere is allowed to continue unchecked and unchallenged. This is not healthy for anyone in their orbit, and can lead to habits that eventually cause them to self-destruct, leaving chaos in their wake.

I am frequently asked to cook for charitable events and happily volunteer my services to raise money for a good cause and, if my finances allow, donate the food and wine.

What I find extraordinary however, is the number of occasions I hear of high profile chefs who are all too willing to have their name linked to an event to gain free publicity but who then make huge demands. Let’s face it, it is only food and either you can cook or you can’t. It is of course a delight to be presented with an attractive plate of food but the proof of the pudding, as they say, is in the eating.

Those who, having made such a fuss, then cancel at the last minute, are selfish beyond belief. Barring a real emergency, this is unacceptable. In in their shoes, having made the commitment, I would consider it my obligation to make due recompense.

Respect is the key word here, and it can only be earned, not demanded as of right.

WHEN A NEW BROOM SWEEPS CLEAN

This year’s local elections have brought about significant changes to all local councils, at all levels.

As the level of responsibility is increasingly being devolved, driven by a lack of central funding, many parishes are really struggling to fill places.

The sad thing about this situation is that when insufficient people put themselves forward to represent their community there is no need for an election and all too often when things are not going their way local residents can as a result be up in arms about parish council members not being elected. Serves them right. I feel pretty much the same about those who choose not to vote. Even a spoilt ballot paper expresses a view.

In the vast majority of cases, the role of parish or town councillor is unpaid and requires a high level of dedication, time and effort, not all of it rewarded; you cannot please all of the people all of the time.

Those who suddenly find themselves in a chilly village hall one evening, having to make decisions about dog litter bins, signage, speeding, grass cutting, planning applications – a whole myriad of issues to resolve, tend to fall into one of two camps.

The returners, many of whom have been involved since Noah was a boy, seen it done it all, and often stuck in their ways, resisting change, and those who having decided to take the plunge and get involved for the first time (often newcomers to the area) are keen as mustard to make their mark.

The danger here is in newcomers being all too ready to identify the weak areas and wanting to ‘get things moving’. Over the last 16 years of my involvement in local politics I have learnt that the wheels turn very, very, very slowly……which can be frustrating for those who feel that they have a lot to offer by way of skills, experience and knowledge. It is all too easy to rock the boat and send those dollies flying right out of their prams.

My advice, patience is a virtue that will not go unrewarded, although given the age of most of us it would be natural for there to be a level of haste in wanting to get things done.

CONSISTENCY IS THE KEY

I set great store by consistency, believing that it is one of the key characteristics we should all strive towards in life.

On consulting my thesaurus, synonyms include reliable, steady, stable and dependable; all good stuff. In my own case what it does not take into account is my overwhelming urge for spontaneity and unpredictability; but at least I am consistent in that respect.

I juggle so many diverse roles in my life that people look at me askance, with a sense of disbelief; I am sure that on many occasions they think I must be lying.

My reason for pondering on ‘consistency’ is that perhaps, rather late in life, I have discovered that it really does matter in all aspects of our life.

As a hotel and restaurant inspector, and a judge for Taste of the West, it is all very well having a great meal or a comfortable stay but before I feel confident in recommending somewhere I have to be sure that the next time someone chooses to eat or stay there that they will have a similar experience. Sadly, this is not always the case. Most weeks I eat out five or six times, not always in a professional capacity. Although a chef by trade, I rarely cook just for myself and have a number of favourite haunts I like to visit. Pubs, restaurants and hotels are a nightmare to run and it is normal for there to be the odd blip, but if it is somewhere that I am familiar with and a meal I have enjoyed previously which does not come up to the mark I am especially disappointed.

Consistency is also important when it comes to bringing up children. In order for them to grow up to become well-adjusted adults, consistency, as long as the message and contact are positives ones, is vital. How confusing it must be for a child to be given conflicting messages about boundaries and behaviour. Parents have a lot to answer for.

I give credit for my success in the recent local elections to my consistent engagement and involvement in the communities I represent. In the current political environment, some level of consistency from our government would have been useful in allowing the rest of us to feel some level of confidence in planning our future.

When it comes to one’s personal relationships consistency can help or hinder us. In choosing who we wish to spend our time with and what activities we choose to do together will often be the result of consistent patterns of behaviour; the friend who is always late for everything, the friends who cries off at the last minute, who talks politics to the point of boredom, or the friend who is consistently there when you need a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. With consistency you know where you stand, for better or worse.

On the negative side, during his interview at Ilminster Literary Festival recently, former MP Alan Johnson spoke of what he observed as typical working-class behaviour when he was growing up as a lad in the slums of North London…. a father who was consistently drunk, consistently beating his mother and consistently gambling away the family income.

That is the kind of consistency we can all do without.

WINES TO GO WITH ASPARAGUS

At last, the fine weather looks set to stay, bringing with it an abundance of the lovely fresh local produce we yearn for during rest of the year when sadly we are reliant upon imports, which can never be as good.

Although my personal dislike of all things green is well recorded, the ethical me feels that it would be better for my health, and the planet, if I was able to make the shift towards a diet based on less meat and dairy consumption. Let’s face it, veganism and sustainability are at the top of everyone’s agenda now.

I try to like vegetables, I really do, but fail miserably. Thankfully, one of the few exceptions is asparagus, which at this time of year takes centre stage. In an effort to eat food that is seasonal, and preferably locally grown, I get really excited by the start of the British asparagus season, which is in full flow now, until the end of June.

For me, asparagus is the very essence of spring. I am not keen on white or purple asparagus, or those fat green spears loved by so many; I much prefer the thin, spindly asparagus known as sprue. My favourite method of cooking these delicate spears is to lightly steam them and serve them either with melted butter or a rich, buttery, hollandaise sauce. I am also inclined to dip them into the yolk of a soft-boiled egg; a slimming alternative to the traditional ‘soldiers’. Fresh from the field, there is nothing to beat asparagus, especially as it is considered an aphrodisiac and is said to contain enzymes that help to fight hangovers to boot. What’s not to love?

But, what to drink with it?

In general, it is advisable to avoid heavy, oaked red wines as the tannins really clash with the grassiness of asparagus, whilst dry rosé will do nothing to enhance your experience either. White wines with a pronounced aromatic or floral flavour, along with wines on the medium to sweet side, will fare no better.

Asparagus, as delicious as it is, has a notorious reputation of being ‘challenging’, difficult to pair with wine, but I think that this is overstated. In general I find that the best match is an unoaked white wine, such as a crisp clean sauvignon blanc; one of the key flavour characteristics of this wine, when well-made, is ‘cat’s pee’, much like the result of having eaten a surfeit of asparagus and the smell of your urine as a result!

Another suitable wine would be a chenin blanc, preferably from the Loire.

A lot of course does depend on how asparagus is prepared, so here are some suggestions to enhance this delicious short-lived season, no matter how you choose to excite those taste buds.

Hollandaise – by far my favourite accompaniment to asparagus, although this would not be my personal preference, with the sauce taking such a prominent role here, go for a mature Chardonnay with some oak. If it were me, I would plump for Champagne every time.

Vinaigrette – here you will want flavours that will not compete with the asparagus, so try a dry, unoaked Italian white such as Verdicchio or Orvieto.

Melted butter – the richness of this will stand up nicely to a medium-bodied Chablis.

Goat’s cheese – the natural match has to one of the lovely minerally Sauvignon Blancs from the Loire, such as Sancerre or Pouilly-Fumé, or one of the stunning English dry white wines now being produced from grape varieties such as Bacchus.

Crab or seafood – you cannot go wrong with a dry Alsace Riesling.  

Risotto – with such a rich and creamy dish, a crisp, dry Italian white such as Pinot Grigio is the ideal option, but do try to avoid the bland cheap and cheerful supermarket options.

Chargrilled – if you yearn for red, then make it a light one, such Bourgeuil or Saumur-Champigny from the Loire, or a light, inexpensive unoaked Pinot Noir.

To really indulge in your asparagus fix, the Vale of Evesham, not too far from here, is one of several historic centres of cultivation and every year on May Bank Holiday Sunday this beautiful part of England holds an Asparagus Festival and auction at the Fleece at Bretforton. Well worth a visit.

And finally, just in case I have so far failed to influence you, spare a thought for these words from essayist Charles Lamb - “Asparagus inspires gentle thoughts.”

FRIENDS OF ILMINSTER LIBRARY LITERARY DINNER SATURDAY 13TH APRIL 2019

Food. Without it we would not survive. The same might be said of literature. Throughout the centuries, whether fact or fiction, it has nourished our souls. That the two should be so inexplicably linked should therefore be no surprise. 
In selecting dishes for tonight’s meal, from authors ancient and modern, I have aimed to bring together memorable moments in which food has played a part in enabling some of our greatest authors to tell their tales. 

Linda Piggott-Vijeh

JACOB’S RED LENTIL SOUP
The Biblical story of Jacob and Esau resonates with many as a story of human weakness and trickery, where a younger brother tricks a hungry older brother into selling him his firstborn birth right for a bowl of soup. The soup itself is much more than just dinner, and more of a matter of life and death.
The story is described in Genesis 25:29-34:
And Jacob cooked soup. And Esau came from the field and was tired. And Esau said to Jacob, “Please pour me some of this red stuff, because I am tired.” Therefore, his name from then on was called Edom (Red). And Jacob said, “Sell me your firstborn right, today!” And Esau said, “Here I am going to die, and what do I need the firstborn right for.” And Jacob said, “Swear to me, today!” And he swore to him. And he sold his firstborn right to Jacob. And Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil soup. And he ate, and he drank. And Esau forsook his firstborn right.

ONION PIE
From Paul Auster’s “The Red Notebook” - “In the end, we had nothing left but a bag of onions, a bottle of cooking oil, and a packaged pie crust that someone had bought before we ever moved into the house…. Given the paucity of elements we had to work with, an onion pie was the only dish that made sense.
After our concoction had been in the oven for what seemed a sufficient length of time, we took it out, set it on the table, and dug in. Against all our expectations, we both found it delicious. I think we even went so far as to say that it was the best food we had ever tasted…. Once we had chewed a little more, however, disappointment set in. Reluctantly—ever so reluctantly—we were forced to admit that the pie had not yet cooked through, that the centre was too cold to eat. There was nothing to be done but put it back in the oven. To stifle our impatience, we went out for a brief stroll…. By the time we entered the house again the kitchen was filled with smoke…. Our meal was dead.

WILD BOAR PATE

The consumption of boar goes back thousands of years. Wild boar was highly prized in the Classical world, and in the Middle Ages, it was a favoured quarry of the hunt. Virtually all parts of the boar were eaten, including its liver, stomach and even its blood, and it was considered so tasty that it was the aim of some recipes to make the meat and innards of other animals’ taste like that of boar. A boar's head was often the crowning meal of a Christmas feast and was mentioned in King Arthur’s time. 

Terrines or Pâtés were known to the Romans, French and Greeks as early as the 11th century. In ancient Greece, Athenians sold Pâtés at the market; it was mostly a way to make more money by utilising and selling every part of the animals they used.

FIG CHUTNEY

Figs by D.H. Lawrence –

The proper way to eat a fig, in society,

Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,

And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.

Then you throw away the skin

Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,

After you have taken off the blossom, with your lips.

But the vulgar way

Is just to put your mouth to the crack and take out the flesh in one bite.

Every fruit has its secret.

The fig is a very secretive fruit.

As you see it standing growing, you feel at once it is symbolic

And it seems male.

But when you come to know it better, you agree with the Romans, it is female.

MRS. DALLOWAY’S SALMON

Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf’s fourth novel, published in 1925, is set over the course of one day in post-First World War London. 

As a member of London’s high society – Richard Dalloway works for the government and the Prime Minister is one of the guests at the party – Mrs Dalloway does not do any of the cooking for the party; that task is left to her household staff, overseen by Mrs Walker, who is worried, considering the guests she is feeding, knowing that the following day, after the party, the dishes will be ‘gone over.’

Mrs Walker gives an insight into what goes on behind the scenes: the effort, preparations and stress which the guests never see but which is all too real for those involved:

‘The Prime Minister was coming, Agnes said: so she had heard them say in the dining-room, she said, coming in with a tray of glasses. Did it matter, did it matter in the least, one Prime Minister more or less? It made no difference at this hour of night to Mrs Walker, among the plates, saucepans, cullenders, frying-pans, chicken in aspic, ice-cream freezers, pared crusts of bread, lemons, soup tureens, and pudding basins which, however hard they washed up in the scullery, seemed to be all on top of her, on the kitchen table, on chairs, while the fire blared and roared, the electric lights glared, and still supper had to be laid.

Next morning, they would go over the dishes – the soup, the salmon; the salmon, Mrs Walker knew, as usual, underdone, for she always got nervous about the pudding and left it to Jenny; so it happened, the salmon was always underdone.’     

ASPARAGUS

Marcel Proust, Swann's Way - “Asparagus, tinged with ultramarine and rosy pink which ran from their heads, finely stippled in mauve and azure, through a series of imperceptible changes to their white feet, still stained a little by the soil of their garden-bed: a rainbow-loveliness not of this world. These celestial hues indicated the presence of exquisite creatures pleased to assume vegetable form, who, through the disguise which covered their firm and edible flesh, allowed me to discern in this radiance of earliest dawn, these hinted rainbows, these blue evening shades, that precious quality which I should recognise again when, all night long after a dinner at which I had partaken of them, they played coarse in their jesting as fairies in Shakespeare’s Dream) at transforming my humble chamber pot into a bower of aromatic perfume.”

JOHN EVELYN’S GRAND SALAD

John Evelyn (1620-1706) was a serious, scholarly gentleman, a public servant, writer, philosopher, and horticulturalist whose agile mind wandered from the study of architecture to gardens, from paintings to the pollution of London. John Evelyn's diary, or memoir, spanned the period of his adult life from 1640, when he was a student, to 1706, the year he died. He was a founding member of the Royal Society, and also a friend of Charles II. As a confirmed vegetarian, Evelyn believed that the key to health was to be found in the garden, not on the hunt. The fact that he lived to be eighty-six, might be considered proof enough.

Evelyn was so devoted to his beliefs that he wrote an entire book on the subject: Acetaria: A Discourse of Sallets.  Published in 1699, it suggested what kinds of plants and herbs to include in a salad garden, their cultivation, and recipes. Raw salads were more fit for masculine tastes, while he recommended that vegetables be "Boil'd, Bak'd, Pickl'd, or otherwise disguis'd, variously accommodated by skillful Cooks, to render them grateful to the more feminine Palat."

Preparatory to the Dressing therefore, let your Herby Ingredients be exquisitely cull'd, and cleans'd of all worm-eaten, slimy, snipthey be rather discretely sprinkl'd, than over-much sob'd with Spring-Water, especially Lettuce....After washing, let them remain a while in the Cullender, to drain the superfluous moisture; And lastly, swing them together gently in a clean course Napkin; and so they will be in perfect condition to receive the Intinctus following (a dressing of "the Yolks of fresh and new-laid Eggs, boil'd moderately hard, to be mingl'd and mash'd with the Mustard, Olive Oyl, and Vinegar; and cut into quarters, and eat with the Herbs).”  

STRAWBERRIES

From the moment it is introduced into the plot, the handkerchief given to Desdemona by Othello in Shakespeare’s play becomes its most important symbol. As a charmed gift given to him by his mother, the handkerchief represents Othello’s mysterious and exotic heritage, one he has repudiated as a Christian and Venetian citizen. To Othello the handkerchief represents Desdemona’s chastity, and her giving it away is a sign that she has given her body away. In Act III, scene iii, Iago mentions that the handkerchief’s much-discussed embroidery is a design of strawberries. The image of strawberries on a white background recalls the blood stains on a wedding sheet that prove a bride’s virginity; the dye used to colour the strawberry pattern actually consists of the preserved blood of dead virgins, suggesting several interpretations. By positioning the handkerchief in Cassio’s lodging, Iago as good as convicts Desdemona of unfaithfulness. When Bianca is found to have the handkerchief, instructed to copy the embroidery, Desdemona seems no better than a prostitute, allowing what was a symbol of Othello’s uniqueness to be passed around and replicated. Othello convinces himself that Desdemona has lost her virtue because she has lost a symbol of that virtue.

CHOCOLATE CREAM 

Alexandre Dumas is known for his plays and novels. Works such as The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers (both written in 1844) gained him worldwide fame. He was also a food writer.

By 1846, Dumas had acquired enough wealth to buy himself a sumptuous country house, which he called Château de Monte-Cristo after his famous novel. He lived a lavish and extravagant life, taking the most pleasure not only in his writing, but also in entertaining. He was a great cook, and his friends, were always gathering to dine with him and listen to him talk about everything from art to politics. Dumas mixed with famous chefs, and when friends needed culinary advice, they turned to him. He was proud of his cooking skills, devoting the last years of his life to writing his cookbook and personal culinary journal, the Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine. In 1869, he retreated to Roscoff, Bretagne with his cook Marie and began writing the more than 1,600-page volume, which he completed in six months and turned in to his publisher shortly before his death in 1870. The Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine was published posthumously in 1873. It includes hundreds of recipes as well as stories and historical culinary tidbits, and like his other works, it proved to be an exceptional piece of literature.

Under the entry ‘dinner’, he writes: “A major daily activity, which can be accomplished in worthy fashion only by intelligent people. It is not enough to eat. To dine, there must be diversified, calm conversation. It should sparkle with rubies of the wine between courses, be deliciously suave with the sweetness of dessert, and acquire true profundity with the coffee.”

ALMOND MACAROONS 

In the famous Norwegian play A Doll’s House, Henrik Ibsen has Nora, the protagonist, eat macaroons from the very first scene: Nora has just got back home from her Christmas shopping, and stealthily eats some macaroons — with this very small yet important action, the audience immediately understands that the macaroons hide more relevance than that they actually show. Our attention is drawn to these small Christmas sweets, which appear at the beginning of the play, uncovering important aspects of Nora’s personality, and then they disappear — yet it is the flavour of those macaroons which can be tasted throughout A Doll’s House: the intense flavour of a person’s search for, and finally discovery of, their identity. Although desiccated coconut was first produced in the early 1880s, when the play was written (1879) Nora could not be eating coconut macaroons – preparing them with freshly grated coconut would have been difficult and expensive. Almonds, on the contrary, had been cultivated in Europe for centuries and are mentioned in the Old Testament, with almond flour appearing in many European recipes from the Middle Ages. 

MADELEINES

"Remembrance of Things Past" - by Marcel Proust - One day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips

a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate, a shudder ran

through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin.

And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory--this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, accidental, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I was conscious that it was connected with the taste of tea and cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature as theirs. Whence did it come? What did it signify? How could I seize upon and define it?