My very good friend Martin Dwyer of Tezan les Beziers is responsible for this tableau.

A week or two back he asked if I could and would source Seville oranges for him as, unsurprisingly I suppose - given that the French don't eat marmalade - he was not finding them available locally.

No problem, said I.

And off I went to our smartest outlet in Kilkenny and, not seeing them on display, I asked for them.

No, I was told but I was offered 'cooking oranges'.
I looked at the label ' sour oranges for cooking - from Spain' it said.
That seemed to tick the boxes and a quick call to Thezan confirmed their suitability.

So, the required quantity were acquired and, on my return home, were deposited in our portility - no I won't explain the meaning - in advance of them heading towards a deep freeze.

Sue, on her return home, enquired about them and I explained all.
She declared herself amazed that I had not bought some for myself with which to make my own marmalade.

I agreed and, internally, resolved that I would do just as she sugessted.
But, of course, when I returned to make my purchase, the the supply was exhausted.

Next day what did I hear but my 'very good wife' putting out a call on the radio for Seville Oranges.

And, as we know, radio is a powerful force - especially in the hands of my wife - and, within minutes, she was in posession of the knowledge as to where they could be found throughout Kilkenny and Carlow.

Thus, she not me, returned with a fine bag of Sevilles and so she, not me, set about the making of marmalade.

My task was merely to seek better jars (I would know them as Kilner Jars) and more sugar.

But when I returned - with the sugar but not, as you can see, the jars - the house was filled with an aroma that I had not known for thirty or fourty years - the smell of marmalade, on a rolling boil, just short of setting point, for my mother, like M. Dwyer, waited year on year for the Seville oranges to arrive with which to make a wonderful, bitter marmalade which she eat with cheese each morning for her breakfast.

And, as I am off to Thezan again in the spring - bearing with me M. Dwyer's oranges - I will bring with me a pot of my wife's product.

And we shall see what we shall see with regard to marmalade - but the benchmark will be my memory of my mother's confection!