My Tennessee Mountain Home, Dolly Parton
Sittin' on the front porch on a summer afternoon...
Chance would be a fine thing. Our front garden is a building site at the moment and since there's a ten foot drop from our front door, we can't enter our home, unless we go round the back.
Hopefully this will explain why we broke our promise to begin talking about our week of Dolly Dinners on Sunday, leaving you with just a couple of pavlova puppies as a teaser. Sometimes, when your home is in upheaval, your life feels that way too, don't you agree? That's why this evening I asked Charlotte to transpose her kitchen creativity onto the TV-stand-cum-drinks-trolley we keep in our dining room and mix me up a cocktail to distract me from the mess outside.
So now I've got a tall glass of red sunset coloured crushed ice. Apparently my drink contains strawberries and mangoes, but I've not been told what spirit. It's rum probably and it's deceptively strong and already doing the trick. I'd better be careful not to enjoy this too much or I might forget and decide to pop out the front door for something later and have a nasty accident.
I look forward to drinking this again when our front porch is finally built and I can sit there on a summer afternoon, imagining that I'm in Dolly's famous song. But do we get junebugs or fireflies in South London?
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