A Plastic Fork

Hello all, I would like to tell you a story about a person who was very dear to me and who is no longer with us. She was my stepmother and was one of the most kind, warm and generous people I have known and she was called Karen. One day we where staying with my Dad and Karen and we where setting off on a road trip some where! Can't remember where but as a natural traveler this was just part of the routine! We where putting together a pick-nick and had raided the family fridge for snacks and sandwiches and other victuals you find lurking in the back of family fridges. We where just looking for napkins and a plastic fork when Karen insisted on providing China plates and real cutlery and if my (possibly embellished) memory serves me well a bottle of wine and glasses, all of which we used to enjoy our glorious pick nick on the shores of Grassmere. This quiet attention to detail and the wider experience of food and drink and how you enjoy it transformed what would have been an entirely forgettable sandwich in a car on the motorway into a beautifull memory I will treasure for the rest of my life. Food is love. This was one of those "plastic forks". Fig.1