I'll start with an apology: I mixed Rogation Sunday (yesterday) with Whit Sunday (June 12). What with all these holidays (Early Spring Bank Holiday May 2, Spring Bank Holiday May 30,) I am becoming totally confused and it's nothing to do with Nita's Ginger Wine, either.

I don't care for red wine and I can't say white wine is much better, but I'll accept a glass of home made wine any day. Fifty years ago, when Peterused to grow vegetables he bordered the patch with parsley, which grew thick and frilly.Neighbourshad a bunchwhen they were making cawl. (Fishguard is a small place and word soon got round that wehad large quantities of the stuff).

A lot of superstitions surround the growing of parsley and some believe you must plant it when the moon is waxing or waning, or the tides are high or low or you've let the cat out early. Whatever.Actually,Peter thinks his success was due to throwing the left over fertiliser into the border before scattering the parsley seed. Anyway.

One day a neighbour decided I should makeParsley Wine. (I'm so malleable). I'd not made wine before so she gave me some tips. One was touse glass or stoneware in preparing the wine, never plastic. The other wastofloat the yeast on a piece of toast. Stirring the yeast into the liquid makes the wine cloudy andthen you haveto strain it over and over. After a few months (when the wine had matured- I was doing this properly, cofiwch chi,)theneighbour was presented with a bottle.It was pronouncedgood, it hada kick, it was clear as a bell and akin to champagne. (If I'd known she was such a judge I wouldn't have attempted it).

I've tasted carrot wine (liked it a lot), potato wine (very good) and ginger wine, whichI like but is not to everyone's taste.

Now, I have a problem: I tinker with recipes. I made my mother a raisin cake and she asked two friends to tea. These twobaked for Cake Stalls, Bring and Buys, Choir Suppers.My mother said they were delirious about my cake, could they have the recipe. Ihad no idea what I'd used, because sometimes I'll add a spoonful of ginger marmalade or a spoonful of syrup or a few tablespoons of sherry, so I am not an exact cook, but as long as the food tastes good...Now before I forget, here'sthe Ginger Wine recipe and remember to have aschooner with a slice of raisin cake.

1 gallon of water, 1 pound of raisins,3 pounds of brown sugar, 2 ounces ofroot ginger, chopped finely.Place in a large container(s). Boil the water, pour over the ingredients, stir well.Allow to cool (just warm)and float 2 teaspoons of fresh yeast on a slice of toast on the liquid. You could now add the juice of an orange or a lemon, if you want to tinker. Next day, remove toast and yeast and discard. Strain liquid into another container and leave a fortnight. Stir each day. It will smell gorgeous. Keep itcovered but not tightly in case it goes 'Whoosh' in the night and gives you a fright. Leave a couple of months, strain into bottles and cork. Iechyd Da or Salute!.

Woken in the night by my own snoresI heardfox cubs making a 'screch' (screach)in the garden. Slipped back intowooziness but then woke again.My right ear was aching from lying on it. Tried lying on my back and took a long time to drop off again;howcan you feel cream-crackeredand still not sleep?

Apparently, the concept ofsleeping foreight hours a nightis a modern one. Years ago people slept in fits and starts, got up to throw a log on the fire, get the cows in or gnaw at a ham bone.That was before some busy body decided we neededeight hours sleep a night. (Like the person whohad no idea how much fruit we should consume but, to cover her back and save us all from scurvy, said five pieces. That created more questions, likewhat constitutes a 'piece' of fruit.)

Japanese studies on students have shown that we are tired at certain key moments in the day: nine in the morning, one o'clock in the afternoon and five o'clock in the evening. (I've not conducted 'in-depth' studies, but I've noticed students are tired most of the time).

Anyway, I was tired at nine o'clock and still tired at ten o'clock, even after an omelette, a banana and four cups of tea.

Well, like the cure for writer's block, I tried working through it. I put half a leg of lamb, studded with rosemary and thyme from the garden andgarlic cloves from Norfolk, into the oven, plus potatoes for roasting. I prepared a saucepan of new potatoes (now forty five pence a pound, improving the taste no end) anddried peas and carrots. (Marilyn Monroe andIlike food tolook pretty on the plate). The point I am making is, Istill felt like a shattered plaster Madonna.

Then I saw the pot of honey with three big pieces of preservedginger in it. I poured two teaspoons of the honey and ginger liquid into a cup and added hot water, stirred and drank. Now, the vital ingredient here is the ginger, because it is reviving, stimulating the circulation,andI think it did for me.

I learnt about ginger when I went to a Chinese acapuncturist.Whatever maladyI mentioned, such as feeling the cold or having a cold, he would recommend ginger, which is also good for nausea.I'm never without it now.

Tomorrow, I will give you Nita's recipe for Ginger Wine.

Tan hynny, tawelwch i pawb trwy'rnos Sul Gwyn. On this Whit SundayI wish you all peace throughout the night.

I have been off the air for the last few days. I enjoyed champagne and canapesin John Lewis, Cardiff, last Thursday evening whenthe store hosted a 'Wales Book Of the Year'event. I met Meleri James from 'Y Lolfa' and Amy Wachs, poetry editor at 'Seren'.

I have changed my car for a saloon (much more comfortable for Peter and my mother) and I'm taking delivery tomorrow. I droveto St David's today. We went via 'Mesur Y Dorth' (the measure of the bread), an ancient restingplace for pilgrims who ate the last remaining crumbs from their loaves before reaching the holy shrine. Three trips to St David's equalled one to Rome, and was much easier on the feet, I expect.

Apart from my car problems, my computer refused to power up.Oliver, my computer whizz and eighteen year old grandson failed to fix it soItook it to a local shop. The problem, apparently,was caused by my habit of taking the batteries out when the screen 'freezes'.All's wellfor nowbutI fearI will have to buy a new one before long.

The weather was bright and sunny this afternoon, though cold. My mother (eighty eight), is a three bottles a night girl - three hot water bottles, that is. Yesterday we picked tiny scarlet strawberries in her garden. As a child, coming home form chapel in the summer, I threaded wild strawberries on grass stalks, to eat when I got home.

In medieval times, strawberries and cream were made into a soup andfed to bridal couples as an aphrodisiac(!) Apparently, strawberries contain Omega 3 oils and Atkins, for those interested in diets, is strong on berries.

Here's a recipe from Nita Sybil Evans's cookbook which contains strawberry jam. Slimming it's notfact, but it's definitely irresistible.

Queen of Puddings:Half a pint of milk, 1 ounce of butter, half a pint of breadcrums, grated rind and juice of 1 lemon, 2 eggs, 2 ounces of sugar, 3 tablespoons of jam.

Method: Heat the milk, the butter and1 ounce of sugar. Pour over the breadcrumbs. Separate yolks from the whites of the eggs and beat the yolks with the lemon juice and rind. Mix in to the breadcrumbs. Put the strawberry jam on the bottom of a pudding dish and pour pudding mixture on top.Place in a moderate oven for for twenty minutes. Whisk whites of egg with the remaining sugar until stiff.Spread on pudding and return to a very cool oven for half an hour. (Careful it doesn't burn). Hope to be back tomorrow.

Had my car back today, plus a new starter motor. Living in Pembrokeshire, a car is a must. (My mother, eighty eight soon, has just given up driving).

I was reading amagazinewith yet another 'homemaker', multi tasker or whatever nomenclature shewished to assign to herself, talking about how sheliked a kitchen-dining area, soshe could chatto dinner party guests whilst cooking.

Fifty years ago, as newly marrieds in Fishguard, we had people around for supper occasonally and I made sure the food was ready before they arrived, becauseI prefer not to have interruptions whencooking.

We use our smalldining room all the time(used saucepans are not an appealing sight when eating). My husband (known as Mr Morgan to the neighbours and Peter to the teenager who delivers the newspapers), likes his mealsat thetable,all he needswithin reach. He lays the table for each meal with an embroidered cloth. Chipped, cracked or faded china goes straight in the bin. (Mugs, too, get a 'Niet').

Anyone who callsis given a cup of tea and a piece of cake. It is a simple form of hospitalityand Ilike doing it.

My two grandaughters, Ffion and Maudie,love baking, too. I called with Maudie on Sunday and she gave me a handful of cherriesas soon as I was through the door.Cherry Cobbler thoughtsimmediately entered my mind.(Stewed cherries, sweetened with sugar or syrup, which I prefer, and baked with a scone topping.)

Here is Nita Sybil Evans's recipe for 'Tea Time Scones'.

Ingredients:

8oz Self-Raising Flour, Pinch of Salt, 3 oz Sugar, 2 oz lard - (butter, I think), quarter pint of milk.

The scone mixture takes little time to make. Just rub fat into flour, add sugar, salt, bind withmilk and roll out. Stamp into rounds with a pastry cutter and overlap on top of the cherries. Bake in a hot oven for fifteen to twenty minutes.Ice cream, cream or custard, (if you can be bothered with making it and I can't, buy otherwise) would be a perfect accompaniment.

Off to 'Literature Wales' awards in Cardiff tomorrow. Will tell all when I get back.

We sat down to our 'cinio dydd Sul' promptly at twelve. (Peter is a man who likes everything operating like clockwork and I am usually hungry.) It turned out to be an expensive meal and I'm not talking about the new potatoes, either.

My husbandis a man of refined tastes. When presented with a meal, he scrutinises it carefully. (No. It doesn't irritate me. I'm used to him).Before he hadthyroid problems andlosta stone in weight, his meal-time mantra was: 'Not much for me', but now he sets to without prevarication.

Today, we had pork wrapped in pancetta with sage stuffing, courtesy of Marks and Spencer's. Icooked it in the oven in a broth of apple juice with fresh thyme leaves, so it had a roasted crust on topand the main part of the joint was tenderised by the juice. With thiswe hadcabbage, (it must be finely sliced for him and, really, he does not know how fortunate he is thatI like cooking), parsnips, carrots, the gold platedpotatoes, apple sauce (bottled), and gravy.Vegetables must be well cooked (don't mention al dente, or he'll snort.)

We were going along nicely whena gurglynoise came from his direction. He opened his mouth and out popped a mercury filling the size of a small boulder.(The irony was thathe'd only had the filling put in three weeks ago). This was placed on a side plate which he contemplated silently for a few seconds before saying: 'The dentist said if it did not hold I'd needa crown.' (I was relieved the food wasof a mushy consistency, so no blame there).

Beinga man who hates waste, he recovered sufficiently to finish the meal. When we'dhad yoghurt and a cup of tea, my thoughts went back to the solanum tuberosum (potatoes) and Fishguard.

Peter's favourite foods are bread and potatoes. His preference isflavourless food. Keiller's Ginger marmalade, for instance, which I love,is eschewed by him soI have learnt to cook what he likes. Looking at Nita Sybil Evans's cook book, she has very few savoury dishes, apart from a meat and potato pie.

When wemarried, my husband was twenty five and a teacher in one of the Fishguard schools. There were few jobs in that areaso, for almost a year, I was a housewife. Althoughwe livedjust a five minute walk from the school he came home at lunch time only once a week. (There was an expectation in the school that you waited on the premises during the mid-day recess).

Once aweek avan came from Milford Haven with fresh fish. On this particular day, Imade a cod- fish pie. (Nothing complicated, poach the fish inmilk, adda bay leaf if you have it, and pepper and salt. The fish is cooked when the flakes fall apart. Drain the fish and put it in a pie dish. Make half a pint of parsley sauce with butter, flour, a pinch of salt,milk and a bunch of chopped parsley. Simmer until it thickens and pour over the fish. Top withbuttery mashed potato, grated cheese and decorate with a thinly sliced tomato.Brown under the grill for five minutes.

Now the point of this storyis not the pie, but what happened while I was preparing it. We had a 'Rediffusion' radio (we were givenlots of pointless wedding presentslike grapefruit spoons, EPNS cake stands, but no one had given us a radio).

Over the radio came the news that U2 pilot, Gary Powers, had been shot down over the Ural Mountains of Russia. I'd never heard of him before. I had no interest in Russia, the Cold War, pilots or anything like that but, somehow, immediately, I connected with his plight. He was only twenty two. I decided he'd made a mistake; 'strayed over' was the phrase that stuck in my mind. How could it have happened?

Now, I can't eat cod fish pie without remembering that day, May 1, 1960.The fire burning in the grate, the table laid for our meal and Gary Powers on his way to a Russian Jail.

My peregrinations took me to Fishguard today, the home of Jemima Nicholas, the eighteenth century female cobbler,said to be six feet tall. In 1797 Frenchboats were seen to drop anchor near Fishguard. Jemima rustled up a posse of women who, in their red cloaks and stove-pipe hats, are reputed to have frightenedthe French, who were intent on invading Britain. Later, the French soldiers surrendered to Lord Cawdor and the Castlemartin Yeomanry on nearby Goodwick sands.

I spent the sort of afternoon I enjoy, buying Pembrokeshire early potatoes, (3 a kilo), and a tablecloth in a charity shop. Before going home, I hadapot of tea in 'Jane's' in the High Street.I resisted the cakes and decided to bake Nita's 'Lemon Meringue Pie' for tea.

You will need:

Short crust pastry (enough to line a pie dish).

2 lemons

2 eggs

2 tablespoons of sugar,

1 tin small tin condensed milk.

Line a pie dish with pastry (frozen is fine butremember to defrostit)

Bake it 'blind', which means lining the inside of the pastry with greaseproof paper and filling it with dried peas. Bake in a moderate oven for 20 minutes.

Remove from oven, discard greaseproof and save peas for next time.

Mix the tinned milk with the 2 egg yolks and the juice of the lemons.

Pour into piecrust. Whisk the egg whites and the sugar until stiff.

Pile meringue on top and place the dish in a cooler oven than previously. Bake for about 30 minutes. Careful it does not scorch- check frequently.

I love this recipe. Give it a try.That's all for today, Pobol Bach. I'll be back tomorrow.

It was a bright, cold showery day, so I alerted Mum (88years old, not out) that we weretaking a trip to Llangendeirne, home village of Nita Sybil Evans, whose 1922 handwritten cookery bookI have.

From Haverfordwest to Carmarthen,the M4 was busy with tractors, juggernauts andcamper vans- you get the picture -slow-moving traffic is a pain.

Turning forLlangaintocollect Mum Iadmired the hedgerows full of yellow buttercups, red campion (Crib y Ceiliog or cockerel's combs) and cow parsley with heads big as saucers. (Full marks to Cyngor Sir Gar, Carmarthen County Council, for not trashing wildflowers before they have seeded.)

Half an hour later, we were enjoying chicken mayo sandwiches, a side salad and a sharedbowl of chips in the Ivy Bush Hotel, Carmarthen.

After allowing half an hour for digestivepurposes, wedecided to head for Llangendeirne.We got Into the car,I turned the ignition key and nothing happened. No. No thing. Dim byd o gwbwl. Aftertrying (and it was a trying experience) a few times, all to no avail, I consulted the handbook(not the type of thing I likedoing) and decided the battery was flat. Mum kept commendably calm. I called my brother in his shop in the new market development in Carmarthen (Debenhams, Selfridges, River Island, 'Singer Sewing' in his case), to come and fetchMum.

Though sheison her mobile all the time, like any teenager, Mum has nevergot the hang of speed dial, so my finger was faster on the trigger than hers. Her main concern was whether my brother had customers in the shop who he might have to rush, buthe soon appeared and whisked her off.

The rescue truck arrived within ten minutes.I gave my diagnosis and the mechanic charged thebattery, jump leads, etc,for those of a technical bent, like my husband, whowanted a full account of what the mechanic had done. Ithen tried to start itagain butnada, nada, no chips.

My thoughts then turned to the key, because itlocked in the ignition once and I could not remove it.The mechanic cheered up instantly whenI conveyedmy suspicions. Unfortunately, but happily for him, he could not get the car on his truck because the wheels had locked. I needed a truck that could hoist the car up. One hour later,a long truck plusa hoist arrived. The mechanic said if I was correct, this would bethe sixthMercedes with key trouble that he'd rescued recently.

PerhapsI shouldn't have gone far, considering it wasFriday the13th. Also, amagpie stalked the grass in front of mewhileI waited for assistance.

Magpie or not, I was home by four thirty, thanks to Peter, otherwise known as Mr Morgan, who recently had his seventy seventh birthday.Driving hisfifteen year old Mercedes (manual keys on his car: 'Simple. Things don't go wrong with them', he muttered) from Haverfordwest, he was with me in forty minutes.

Home again, we had cheese on toast, toppedwith fried tomatoes on the vine.

Now I cometoNita's recipe for 'Tomato Chutney', not only tasty but the lycopenein tomatoes helpsprotect against prostate cancer (butyou don't need to think aboutthis when you're enjoying the chutney).

Recipe for 'Tomato Chutney':

2 lbs Tomatoes (I apologise to the purists amongst you, but the book does not usemetric measures),1 Large Onion (thinly sliced), 1 Large Tablespoon salt, 6 ounces of Brown Sugar, 4 ounces of Seedless Raisins (cut small), 1 Teaspoon Mustard, 1 Teaspoon Ground Ginger. Pinch of Cayenne Pepper (cayenne pepper in Llangendeirne 1922? Nita must have beenway ahead of her time), Three quarters of a pint of Vinegar.

To cut a longish recipe short, chop the tomatoes andlayer with the onions in a bowl and sprinkle with salt. Leave overnight in a bowl. Next morning, tip the mixture into a stewpan, add mustard, ginger and pepper, pourin the vinegar.Put over a low heat (a coal fire, probably, in 1922), Stir with a wooden spoon until the until onions and tomatoes are tender. leave to cool before bottling in clean glass jars.

(Nita has a tendency topreface nouns with capital letters, in the German way; she'snot averse to sprinkling capitalshere and there, either.)

Night has now fallen over Haverfordwest, dark, starless night and I must retire to my bed (warmed by a hot water bottle and a Melyn Tregwynt blanket (pink, since you ask). Nos da pawb.

Last week I had afternoon tea in Marylebone HighStreet, London. It was a sunny day and I sat at an outside table, beneath an awning. When my order arrived, on a three tier cake stand, it consisted of two scones, jam and cream, two tiny chocolate cakes,a sugary puff pastry confection and three finger sandwiches with fillings that included cucumber, watercress and smoked salmon. The tea was freshly brewed, I had a thick linen napkin to wipe my fingers on and, in case there was still a corner to fill,a chocolate came with the 9.60 bill. I'd go there every week if I could, I enjoyed it so much.

Afternoon tea is making a big come back and, looking for ideas, I remembered that I had a handwritten cookery book, dating from 1922. It was written by a student teacher, Nita Sybil Evans, who lived in Llangendeirne, Carmarthen.

The recipes cover forty years, until 1964, when they end with a 'Banana cake'.

I was born near Llangendeirne and my early foody memories include 'Cawl Potch', made with meat, usually ham, carrots, leeks, potatoes, (plenty), parsley, parsnips and whatever else you had to throw in.Wild rabbits also featured on the menu and I liked to look at their teeth before they were prepared, (decapitated and skinned), for the pot.

In 1959, when I married, I remember that 'Good Housekeeping' magazine featured a recipe for jugged hare. Cooks were meant to save the blood of the hare and strain it, to ensure there were no clots, which would spoil the gravy. Compared to that recipe, an omelette appeared very tasty.Shall give you some more recipes next time I talk. Hwyl, Gillian