Moments .

Location: Scotland

There was this woman who lived nearby , her name was Lizzie , she used to come and visit of a night , she would bring this fruit loaf with her , sit it down on the kitchen table without a word spoken , my Dad would say ..how are you lizzie , she would reply im just grand , not another word would she say , we would all pass through the kitchen and say hiya Lizzie are you well? she would mearly nod , she became almost like a ficture to us , being young I used to think , why does she bother to visit , she says nothing , but didnt bother my parents why would I object , around July she would go on holidays up the country to see a cousin , the night before she left she would chat a little more , not much mind you ..we would all listen to her telling about what she packed , how long she would be gone , who was driveing her there ..and when she would be home , the morning she left two fruit loaves would appear ...then lizzie was gone , she would return after her visit ...come in ...do as she always did , we would say , did you have a good time then Lizzie ..just grand she would sigh , like to think Lizzie just liked observing life , maybe not a lot to say , but until this day ..we call fruit bread ...lizzies loaf .

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Moments .