It is strange how those who have left the UK to live and work suddenly develop a craving for something that reminds them of life in their countries of origin. I guess it is not that surprising really, as Christmas is a time of the year when our memories, particularly as we get older, recall times gone by, both happy and sad. Many of those special times have occurred, of course, over the Christmas and New Year period; many of us will have fond memories of families and friends, of precious times spent together, unique family traditions, gifts and special food that appeared at this time of the year.

Since moving to Spain, I seem to have developed a craving for mince pies. When we lived in the UK I would not give a mince pie the time of day; similarly Christmas puddings, which I always used to consider to be a total waste of space and time. Why one would consume a hearty Christmas dinner, only to be followed by a plateful of thick brown stodge and custard was beyond me. I would only ever eat a spoonful of pudding to please my mother, who had made several during the summer months. You see, mother’s Christmas pudding making was a family tradition, a legend, and I can still see the huge copper boiler steaming away for what seemed like hours as she prepared puddings for Christmas Day, Boxing Day and for each of my brother’s and my own birthdays. This activity took place each summer; she did not freeze them and, I am told, they became even more delicious as the months went by. I have since learned that this was due to my mother’s generosity in a liberal application from the newly opened bottle of brandy that was part of the creation of this annual treat. I guess it was a form of embalming!

Last year, a neighbour appeared at our gate a week before Christmas, begging for help in obtaining a supply of mince pies for her Christmas party. We made a few suggestions and she went away satisfied, yet determined to track down a few boxes. Unlike in previous years, we had also found great difficulty in locating mince pies, and we crossed our fingers that our suggestions would be helpful and that it would help the party to go with a swing. A few days later, our neighbour spotted us, waved and beamed. Yes, she had tracked down two boxes - the last on the island, it seemed.

This year we went to our nearest branch of Marks and Spencer. Although a franchise of the UK store, stocking only a limited range of foodstuffs, we were very hopeful of finding some as we had allowed plenty of time before Christmas. The friendly sales assistant shook her head sadly, “No, we have none left,” she said. She noticed our disappointment and added, “I can get you some if you like.”

She picked up the phone with a flourish and called the main branch in Las Palmas and handed the phone to us. I spoke to a very helpful lady in Las Palmas, who confirmed that she had two boxes left and would send them down to our local store the following day. How’s that for service?

We now have our mince pies, and very nice they are too! I can already hear some of you thinking, “Why don’t you make your own?” Fair point, but have you tried getting a supply of mincemeat over here? Believe me, trying to explain such an item, in Spanish to bemused sales staff, really is not worth the trouble, but I will leave that story for another time!

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