My mother made lemon curd.
You could say it was her party trick.
Every year she’d make an enormous batch, and you’d have to grab a jar pretty quick.

The flavour, it was amazing!

Woke you up with a zap and a zing.

Not slept well or feeling a bit off? Have a spoonful of this and you’d sing.

The colour was spectacular, like pure sunshine in a jar.

And what made it all the more special was the lives it touched near and far.

You see, when people were given a jar of this, it touched a place deep inside.

Their lives went from grey and gloomy into lives filled with colour and pride.
They’d have it on toast or on porridge, far better than honey or jam.

I loved it turned into ice-cream, especially after eggs, chips and ham.

My mother had done this for a long time, left quite the legacy you see. Her first batch was made aged 11, her last at 103.

When her curd making days were over, and it was time to put her spoon away,
we gathered together to say goodbye, on a dull, grey and dismal kind of day.

The church was packed to the rafters, people remembered and laughed. Especially the vicar who adored her curd. He sometimes even ate it in the bath.

They all sang ‘Bring me sunshine’ as a tribute to my Mum and her spread. So here’s to her lemony goodness on crumpets, muffins or bread.