Nearly 100 years ago, aged just 19, my father’s eldest brother, Lionel Reid Hall – Bobby to his family and friends, Uncle Bobby to my sister, brother and me, Grandpa/Grandpop to the Jacksons, Whitlocks and Constantines – was posted to France on 25th February 1917.
Cold, wet, and at first often bored, and missing his family and many friends, he wrote regularly and reassuringly from the trenches to his loving and obviously anxious family living in Lichfield. Continue reading Letters from the Front
For several years the building sat there in the middle of the town – unseen here, but on the near right corner of this photo – increasingly and depressingly desolate. The heavy trucks thundered and rattled past (unfortunately the ‘Gateway to the Peak’ doesn’t have a full ring road) narrowly missing the famous and by then redundant Green Man and Black’s Head sign across the road and many foretold the demise of Ashbourne as a town of any note. 
Yesterday saw us savouring the delights of the latest of these. We had trudged – so to speak – somewhat grudgingly into Ashbourne, with a long list of rather boring things to do on a horribly blustery and wet day. Of course on the list was a trip to the Recycling Centre. Incidentally, they are so pleasant and helpful there it is almost a pleasurable task, except when the weather is foul, as it was yesterday morning.
We needed our spirits reviving. Fortunately, I remembered just in time that Jack Rabbit’s, Ashbourne’s latest coffee shop/teashop/restaurant was opening on March 1st at the back of the Green Man, so before returning home we decided to pay a visit. We have friends involved in the project and we knew, knowing them, that we would be in for a (well-deserved, we felt) treat.
And what a warm welcome we received. The coffee was delicious, John’s scone, still warm and freshly baked – I ended up sharing. There is an attractive looking menu, for brunches and lunches as well as coffee time treats, so we shall certainly return.
There were many more judges than entrants for the Great Parwich Bake-off, which was disappointing, but a very jolly and satisfying time was had by all that attended, young and old, as we conscientiously tasted… and tasted again… just to be sure.
I am relieved to tell you that presentation did not come into the judging, which was purely on taste. I also feel a bit sheepish telling you that my gluten-free entry was the only one in that section, so inevitably it won 1st Prize; however, in my defence the cake was all but finished by the judges, some of whom were seen returning for more and more helpings – and I did receive some very nice comments afterwards, although of course at the time no one knew who had cooked what. (Recipe on its way to the marionfs blog in a day or two.)
I also received 1st prize for my roulade but there were only two entries, so that was more by luck than the officially required technical skill. As it is I feel quite ashamed about the final toffee sauce whirls that are meant to be the finishing touch to decorate the roulade.
So busy chatting to all and sundry I’m afraid I missed it – so you will have to look on the 
I think everyone is hoping that this event might be held again next year. It was a lot of fun, and nobody need feel in the slightest overawed. The judges, all of us, were far more concerned with chatting together and enjoying the delicious tastes than having any concern over method or technical skill.
Not to be outdone by all the media excitement over the latest Great British Bake Off and all the hype about Nadiya the 30-year-old-mum-from-Leeds, The Parwich Memorial Hall committee has decided in its wisdom to run our own village bake-off, in aid of the Parwich Memorial Hall Fund and TearFund’s No Child Taken Campaign. You can read all about it on the 
