FROM PATCH TO PLATE Matthew Fort

There is a fire in the grate, a pleasant fug in the sitting room, and I’m dozing on the sofa. A teapot, milk jug and teacup sit on the table just beside me. A plate with little puddles of melted butter and the odd blob of homemade preserve rests on my knee. Until a minute or two ago, several buttered crumpets had rested on said plate, but I have demolished them – butter, bramble jelly and all.

Well I’ve earned them. I’ve