Old books, handwritten books especially, interest me.Twenty five years ago I bought a handwritten cookery bookatan auction in Bristol.

Though no information was available about wherethe book had come from,I was still pleased with my find. I took it home and read it carefully. Copper plate writing flowed over the thick yellow pages, horizontally and diagonally, too, in some places. (Past generations had a habit of 'saving' everything, writingover notes they no longer required).Unfortunately, the cook had not written her name but, evidently, her family was well fed. I could smell the old, floury kitchen and long ago meals.

There were recipes for 'Breakfast Cake', mayonnaise, kedgeree, wines, jams, jellies, pickles and evencough mixture, emetics, hair colouring, bees wax polish.

As Icarefully turned the pages, some of which were coming away from the spine, I encountered a recipe dated 1745! This book had been a family treasure and the last entrieswere inthe twentieth century.

Accompanying the book were some loose recipes, known as receipts.Examining a torn envelope, Ifoundthe name, 'Mrs Averill', Broadway. On the back of the envelope was a recipe for soup, for the attention of the overseers of the 'Poor House'. (The soup required gallons of water and just a few vegetables).

This was a find. I had a name and, by sheer chance, I had recently spent a holiday in Broadway, not far from Stratford on Avon.

Iasked the then Vicar of Broadwayfor his help and he was excellent,copying the Averill names on gravestones and sending them to me. Going one further, heasked an elderly relativeof the Averill family if she would like to correspond with me.

This resulted incontact with family members inAmerica and an invitation to stay with them in New England.