Postcards from the Springhouse

I’m so glad that spring has finally arrived. The plum tree is looking bridal with its cascades of blossom, which flutter onto my head every time I cross the lawn. The primroses have bloomed beneath the window boxes, while the tulips in the boxes are just starting. The last week has been very busy — I’m just not used to being this frantic, so I’m sorry if I’m taking longer to reply to e-mails and comments.

Friday was very special. My grandfather, Paul, to whom ‘Mr Rosenblum’ is dedicated, would have been 100 years old on April 8th. My friend Jill organised a supper-club at the Dalston Boys’ Club where the German chef Caroline Hobkinson created a 7 course menu inspired by the book. 40 people came (all strangers!) and in London’s East End we ate a 7 course supper representing Jack’s journey from immigrant to Englishman.

We all sat at one very long table lit by candelabras, with silent film footage from the 1950s playing on the tablecloth and walls. I read extracts between courses so that people could understand the significance of the food, and we sipped German wine. The dress code was ‘English eccentrics’ — so I got to wear my ‘Rose-in-bloom’ skirt once again. My friend Naomi Alderman (whose book ‘The Lessons’ is out on Thursday!) came, and so did Mr S. It was a really special occasion. Even though, I did feel rather guilty about eating woolly-pig.

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