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Weekly Contest #71
It had been five years since Nana’s death, and many more years since she was the woman all her family remember. Sometimes it felt as if it was only yesterday that she was whirling around the kitchen, her shrieking and laughter filling the room whenever one of the numerous pans scattered across the hob began to boil over. Whenever she cooked, clouds of flour hung in the air until the room resembled a snowy winter scene. My nana’s name was Lynne, and she was famed for her cooking, her signature dish was a Christmas pudding. However, Lynne’s Ch...
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