“I do not have to eat freshly baked bread to love it. The scent is nearly as delicious, nearly as much the satisfaction as the thick slice of bread slathered with butter and homemade apricot jam.”

Julia Cameron in The right to write.

One of my most enduring memories of freshly baked bread occurred during a holiday in the Flinders Ranges in South Australia. My wife and I, accompanied by our daughter and her little dog, headed off to one of our favourite camping spots towing our caravan. After a long day of travelling we set up camp overlooking the magnificent southern edge of Wilpena Pound. We could look out of the window or sit in the sunshine next to our van and admire the full beauty of the range.

Because we didn’t know how often fresh bread was available in the small park shop, we decided to take our bread making machine with us. To wake up to the smell of freshly baked bread in the small confines of the van was like sleeping in a bakery. Then to top off the experience we had homemade apricot jam to enjoy with the fresh bread. I think we probably had homemade peach and pineapple jam as well. Heaven.

As I remember, there was a downside. On the first day I came down with a heavy cold. I survived – probably only because to the fresh bread baked every day.

WRITING PROMPTS

• Write about your encounters with fresh bread.
• Write about baking homemade bread in your home when you were a child.
• Write about special food you enjoyed on a holiday.
• Write about a holiday spoiled by illness.