Please see gallery above to see the jars.

In March 2021, my mother, who was my best friend, tragically died of a very rare stroke, aged 63, going on 36 - totally unprecedented and with no previous history or symptoms. One day I was FaceTiming her from my flat in London, excitedly planning her next trip to the capital; the next, she was gone. To say she was gone before her time is an understatement; a more vibrant, energetic, passionate and life-loving person you would be unlikely to meet. Her joie de vivre and her completely unparalleled love for her family and friends, made her a truly special and unique woman. She touched so many different people’s lives, in so many ways; she leaves behind a void which cannot ever be filled.

For many years, January has become synonymous for me with the annual marmalade marathon; after reading about the World Marmalade Awards in a magazine many years ago, I was immediately determined to enter it. Having never made marmalade before, but having always been incredibly greedy and just generally obsessed with food, I turned, of course, to my mum, who I naturally assumed (correctly) would 'know about marmalade', as she did about all things culinary. ‘Have you ever made made marmalade Mum?’ Of course she had - her first batch was produced whilst living in a bedsit in Bath with her best friend aged 25 whilst studying for her teaching qualification. As you do…

It is to her incredibly natural talent in the kitchen - she would make anything and everything taste absolutely unbelievable, whilst always modestly denying that she had any skill whatsoever (‘oh it’s probably disgusting’ ‘I’m sorry this is probably awful’) - that I owe my unapologetic greed and total love of food. She had the most innate understanding of taste, of flavour, of seasoning; after trying a new dish in a restaurant together, she would subsequently spend hours researching recipes and methods and articles on that dish, and then draw on all of them to create something totally unique and derived all from her feel and sense of flavour. I lose count of the number of times I would eat something delicious she had produced, and ask for the recipe she had used - to which she would reply, ‘Oh, well, I didn’t really follow a recipe’… From a young age this always blew my mind, until I realised that’s how truly natural cooks work - but the resulting tragedy of which is, of course, that I cannot reproduce the exact dishes she cooked. There are still dishes in the freezer of hers, of which I savour every. single. bite. I cannot bear to ever finish them. 

This year, I was not sure whether I would make marmalade. I could not bear to undertake it without her. 

But then I thought, if there was a way I could use our marmalade tradition as a vehicle to prevent even just one person, or family - and hopefully more - from going through this earth-shattering tragedy, then it would be worth it. 

I make no claim to be the world’s best marmalade maker - even less so now I have had to undertake this mammoth mission without the reassuring guidance of my mum, helping me to decide whether I have reached that ever-elusive setting point. I’m sure your mum’s or your granny’s or certainly Frank Cooper’s is better. 

But by donating to The Stroke Association, you are contributing towards valuable research into the science behind what causes such heart-wrenchingly tragic and incalculably unforeseeable events. There is so much that science and doctors can do now, and medicine has come on in such radical leaps and bounds, but sadly, they are not miracle workers. 

I also wanted to keep Mummy’s legacy alive and to produce this marmalade in her memory and in her honour.

If you choose to support this - for those of you who knew her, please remember her with love and thanks every time you lather it atop a piping hot, freshly toasted and liberally buttered hunk of sourdough (recommended serving suggestion). No better start to the day.

For those of you who didn’t know her, please take a minute in between mouthfuls to treasure your loved ones, to never take them for granted, and though it may sound like a cliche; you really do never know which day is going to be your last.

When stroke strikes, part of your brain shuts down. And so does a part of you. Life changes instantly and recovery is tough. But the brain can adapt. Our specialist support, research and campaigning are only possible with the courage and determination of the stroke community. With more donations and support from you, we can rebuild even more lives.