“It was growing warm; too warm for early April, experience having taught me that heat too soon in the year often presaged a wet and chilly summer. I was hungry, for it was past the hour of dinner, but I was too eager to hear the rest of Grizelda's story to interrupt her with a request for food. By good fortune, however, she thought of it herself, standing up and shaking out her skirt. She had on the same one of blue brocella that she had worn the previous day. 'It's time we ate,' she said firmly.... 'I can offer you bread and cheese, apples and oatcakes, washed down with some more of my ale, to which you seem to have taken a liking.' I accepted gladly everything except the ale. She made a potent brew and I had drunk enough. My head was already beginning to swim. So she filled me a beaker of water from the barrel which stood outside the cottage door, and then suggested that we, too, go outside and warm ourselves in the sunshine. So we sat on a stone bench which ran the length of the south-facing wall, eating Grizelda's excellent home-baked bread flavoured with corncockle seeds, cheese, made from the milk of her cow, oatcakes sweetened with honey, and some small shrivelled apples from last autumn's gathering, given to her by a neighbour.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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