I find myself checking the origin of pats of butter in places where I stop (see here).
At Wicken Fen on Sunday, as well as brilliant views of Hen Harriers I had a passable scone. I have to say it was not the very best scone I’ve had at a National Trust property but it was perfectly acceptable. And the butter was noticeably English (at least I assume from the wrapper that it was – I guess there must be West Countries in many countries).
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On the Isle of Wight last year, everything was Irish, as it seems to be most places we go.
Maybe it’s the Leprechauns that fold the little packages.