Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

I had this girlfriend once, called Sally; she wanted to go to the theatre. It was to see a sort of Romeo and Juliette thing but with a happy ending, she said. La Nonnay Sanglantay, it was called. Translates apparently as Bloody Nun, and it was – bloody nunsense. There’s these star crossed lovers, Rudolpho (not Romeo) and Agnes. The families are at loggerheads, so to keep the peace, she’s being forced to marry Rudolpho’s older brother. She runs away by disguising herself as the ghost of the nun that’s supposed to haunt the castle. Rudi trots along to the rendezvous they’d arranged earlier, sees the ghost, thinks it’s Agnes, and marries it, witnessed, as he would be, by all his ancestors - who are also ghosts. Then he finds out it’s not Agnes. You’d have thought he’d have checked what was under the veil, wouldn’t you? Anyway, the ghost won’t let him go unless he kills the man who murdered her – I hope you’re following this, ‘cos I couldn’t until Sally explained it at the inte...

  Cinnamon and ginger in your favourite coffee shop, Crisply ironed shirts and the smell of polished shoes, Fragrant fallen leaves upon the gently warming soil, And frost assaults your nose in riotous shades of blue.   Richly scented candles and firelighters in the stove, Soups and stews and comfort foods simmering on the hob, The smell of car exhausts that lingers in the air, The odour of new notebooks you’ve bought for your new job.   The smell of the lawn’s last haircut before it goes to sleep, The final hurrah of flowers, including the wild roses. Polish on kitchen table, and oil on oak worktops Filling the hungry wood and filling up our noses.   Fragrant cocoa replaces tea as my supper drink of choice, Hot water bottle smells upstairs before we go to bed. Smelly umbrellas and wellies herald wetter days this month, And the spicy tang of Vapour Rub to clear my stuffy head.   Fragrant sun-warmed fruit brings thoughts of ...