Marmalabels

My eldest son is at it again.

This time it’s funky labels for his mother’s freshly made Orange Marmalade. We keep this stuff in our cellar, so when we send one of the minions down for another jar (height restrictions mean it’s a yogic experience for the taller man…) there’s a collective marvelling at the loveliness of the label, long since forgotten by even the creator themselves.

It’s a bit like those photo memories your phone pops up – only much stickier…