Scones and friendship

Today didn’t get off to a very good start. Without going into details let’s just say that the driving wasn’t going as smoothly as I had originally thought. Plus, sometimes it’s a bit tough being in a foreign country, especially when you’re still learning the language. So all-in-all I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

But then I got a text message from a lovely English lady in the village whom I’d met a couple of days ago and had enjoyed watching the England/Italy Euro match with last night. (It had been a wonderful evening incidentally – though admittedly more memorable for me for the atmosphere, good company, magestic backdrop of the Tuscan hills and the food, especially the huge balls of fresh mozzarella brought in specially from Naples, than for the football).

Anyway, Sheena’s text said that she had baked some scones and had left a couple hanging in a bag by her door for me. I popped out to find them and there they were, beautifully presented in a  little Union Jack napkin. Seeing scones again and smelling that wonderful aroma of British home baking warmed the cockles of my heart. Although Sheena didn’t know that I had needed it, this lovely act of friendship turned a bad day into a good one.

(The scones were delicious by the way, especially when served with home-made jam courtesy of Elaine, another British friend back in Milan).


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