Readers' favourite photographs, songs and recipes
**Snapshot: Nan and Grandad raising a glass**
This photograph is of my grandparents and sits in a frame on my bedside table. It was taken on a holiday to the Isle of Wight in 2006. Two years later, Grandad died; two and half years later, Nan passed away too. I didn't know that this would be the last holiday I would share with them, but I'm glad I got the chance to spend proper time with them before they passed on.
I'm content to know that they lived a long, happy life together. I feel the fact that they are drinking champagne to celebrate nothing in particular – just because they were on holiday with their family – proves they had a happy life. They remind me that we must make the most it. My grandparents lived in the present – they didn't cling to the past. For the future, they wanted only happiness for their children and grandchildren.
The picture serves as a constant reminder to me, to be happy and enjoy each day as it comes. They are the last people I see at night and the first I see in the morning, looking out at me from the frame on my bedside table. I wake up to their smiling faces and I imagine them raising a glass to a new day because today is all we really have.
Sophie Kingham
**Playlist: A song that brought us all closer **
*I'll Be Seeing You by Anne Shelton*
"I'll be seeing you / In all the old familiar places / That this heart of mine embraces / All day through … I'll find you in the morning sun / And when the night is new / I'll be looking at the moon / But I'll be seeing you"
We are lucky with our street musicians on the Cheltenham Promenade and the young trumpeter can stop me in my tracks any day. I may be in a hurry, but the strains of a Glenn Miller or Bing Crosby classic makes me stay longer.
Last week it was I'll Be Seeing You and I was taken back to war time, when the song meant a lot in our family. When the second world war started, I asked my father, "Will our Les have to go?"
"Of course not, he's not a soldier," he said. And he was 14 years older than me. But he did go, and so did my brother Edgar, who was four years older then me and, even more to our surprise, so did I.
We heard the song played over the radio, sung by the forces favourite Anne Shelton and wondered how long it would be before we would see one another. Les was serving in the army in Burma, Edgar was flying in Sunderlands over the Atlantic, while I was in the RAF in Sudan, and it was songs such as this that brought you together, if only on the air waves.
As a celebration of the end of the war, some of the cabaret girls from Khartoum came to the camp and this was one of the songs they sang. Airmen aren't allowed to cry – but it was a close thing!
Luckily we all survived and slowly returned to civilian life, but the trumpeter has only to play the first few bars and I am back in memory land.
Tudor Williams
**We love to eat: Auntie Sue's gherkin soup**
*Ingredients*
3 medium potatoes
5-7 medium-sized pickled gherkins
500ml beef stock
500ml double cream
Black pepper
Cube and boil potatoes in the stock for 10-15 minutes or until soft. Grate the gherkins and add to the stock pot. Once the potatoes are cooked, take the pan off the heat and add the cream. Simmer for a further few minutes until warm. Season with black pepper and serve with crusty bread.
I first met my partner, Sean, 12 years ago at sixth-form college in north Wales. He was 19 and striving to create some sort of home in the one-bed council flat he'd moved into in order to gain a bit of independence away from his mum.
He used to ask me round for dinner and in the first few months used his only cooking devices – a toastie-maker, microwave and kettle – to conjure some bizarre creations for me. Sean's gastronomic offerings were also frequently based on whatever ingredients had been in the "aid packages" of tinned food his Auntie Sue would bring round, following cupboard clear outs at her house. We used to eat eggs fried on the toastie-maker (triangular!), spam and pasta cooked in the microwave and boil-in-the-bag rice made by plonking a bag in the kettle and keeping a finger on the switch. The food ranged from just-about-edible to the downright disgusting (chicken soup toasted sandwiches spring to mind), but every mealtime was an adventure at Sean's house.
My stomach rejoiced when Sean announced that he had bought a second-hand cooker and, after a couple of trial dishes, I was relieved to find out that he did cook normal food after all. Auntie Sue remained a culinary influence and the source of some odd-sounding recipes – rubbish soup being one of the least enticingly named (it was made from leftover veg and chicken stock).
One day, Sean announced that he was making me gherkin soup for tea and I assumed he'd gone back to his weird culinary ways.
In fact, this was another of Auntie Sue's classics (the recipe inherited from an elderly Polish relative). It is a dish that, when mentioned to the uninitiated, generally evokes a look of disgust. But over the years, even the most skeptical friends and housemates have been won over by it once it has been tasted. We still often make it for ourselves as a quick, comforting and cheap dinner.
I don't know why it works, but it does. The vinegar from the pickles seems to add a magic touch that leaves you craving more.
Laura Thistlethwaite
*We'd love to hear your stories
*
We will pay £25 for every Letter to, Playlist, Snapshot or We love to eat we publish. Write to Family Life, The Guardian, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU or email family@guardian.co.uk. Please include your address and phone number Reported by guardian.co.uk 11 hours ago.
**Snapshot: Nan and Grandad raising a glass**
This photograph is of my grandparents and sits in a frame on my bedside table. It was taken on a holiday to the Isle of Wight in 2006. Two years later, Grandad died; two and half years later, Nan passed away too. I didn't know that this would be the last holiday I would share with them, but I'm glad I got the chance to spend proper time with them before they passed on.
I'm content to know that they lived a long, happy life together. I feel the fact that they are drinking champagne to celebrate nothing in particular – just because they were on holiday with their family – proves they had a happy life. They remind me that we must make the most it. My grandparents lived in the present – they didn't cling to the past. For the future, they wanted only happiness for their children and grandchildren.
The picture serves as a constant reminder to me, to be happy and enjoy each day as it comes. They are the last people I see at night and the first I see in the morning, looking out at me from the frame on my bedside table. I wake up to their smiling faces and I imagine them raising a glass to a new day because today is all we really have.
Sophie Kingham
**Playlist: A song that brought us all closer **
*I'll Be Seeing You by Anne Shelton*
"I'll be seeing you / In all the old familiar places / That this heart of mine embraces / All day through … I'll find you in the morning sun / And when the night is new / I'll be looking at the moon / But I'll be seeing you"
We are lucky with our street musicians on the Cheltenham Promenade and the young trumpeter can stop me in my tracks any day. I may be in a hurry, but the strains of a Glenn Miller or Bing Crosby classic makes me stay longer.
Last week it was I'll Be Seeing You and I was taken back to war time, when the song meant a lot in our family. When the second world war started, I asked my father, "Will our Les have to go?"
"Of course not, he's not a soldier," he said. And he was 14 years older than me. But he did go, and so did my brother Edgar, who was four years older then me and, even more to our surprise, so did I.
We heard the song played over the radio, sung by the forces favourite Anne Shelton and wondered how long it would be before we would see one another. Les was serving in the army in Burma, Edgar was flying in Sunderlands over the Atlantic, while I was in the RAF in Sudan, and it was songs such as this that brought you together, if only on the air waves.
As a celebration of the end of the war, some of the cabaret girls from Khartoum came to the camp and this was one of the songs they sang. Airmen aren't allowed to cry – but it was a close thing!
Luckily we all survived and slowly returned to civilian life, but the trumpeter has only to play the first few bars and I am back in memory land.
Tudor Williams
**We love to eat: Auntie Sue's gherkin soup**
*Ingredients*
3 medium potatoes
5-7 medium-sized pickled gherkins
500ml beef stock
500ml double cream
Black pepper
Cube and boil potatoes in the stock for 10-15 minutes or until soft. Grate the gherkins and add to the stock pot. Once the potatoes are cooked, take the pan off the heat and add the cream. Simmer for a further few minutes until warm. Season with black pepper and serve with crusty bread.
I first met my partner, Sean, 12 years ago at sixth-form college in north Wales. He was 19 and striving to create some sort of home in the one-bed council flat he'd moved into in order to gain a bit of independence away from his mum.
He used to ask me round for dinner and in the first few months used his only cooking devices – a toastie-maker, microwave and kettle – to conjure some bizarre creations for me. Sean's gastronomic offerings were also frequently based on whatever ingredients had been in the "aid packages" of tinned food his Auntie Sue would bring round, following cupboard clear outs at her house. We used to eat eggs fried on the toastie-maker (triangular!), spam and pasta cooked in the microwave and boil-in-the-bag rice made by plonking a bag in the kettle and keeping a finger on the switch. The food ranged from just-about-edible to the downright disgusting (chicken soup toasted sandwiches spring to mind), but every mealtime was an adventure at Sean's house.
My stomach rejoiced when Sean announced that he had bought a second-hand cooker and, after a couple of trial dishes, I was relieved to find out that he did cook normal food after all. Auntie Sue remained a culinary influence and the source of some odd-sounding recipes – rubbish soup being one of the least enticingly named (it was made from leftover veg and chicken stock).
One day, Sean announced that he was making me gherkin soup for tea and I assumed he'd gone back to his weird culinary ways.
In fact, this was another of Auntie Sue's classics (the recipe inherited from an elderly Polish relative). It is a dish that, when mentioned to the uninitiated, generally evokes a look of disgust. But over the years, even the most skeptical friends and housemates have been won over by it once it has been tasted. We still often make it for ourselves as a quick, comforting and cheap dinner.
I don't know why it works, but it does. The vinegar from the pickles seems to add a magic touch that leaves you craving more.
Laura Thistlethwaite
*We'd love to hear your stories
*
We will pay £25 for every Letter to, Playlist, Snapshot or We love to eat we publish. Write to Family Life, The Guardian, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU or email family@guardian.co.uk. Please include your address and phone number Reported by guardian.co.uk 11 hours ago.