I wrote this a little while ago, as an attempt at a short story, for a competition. It didn't win anything, but I thought I would share it here, for anyone who is interested. It is based on real life, with my Nan, who was a very capable lady and an avid jam-maker, right up until she had a debilitating stroke, last August. We are still working our way through her stock of jam and, knowing that, soon, we will reach the last jar, is heart-breaking. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story! The Last Jar of Jam It had always felt as though the jam jars had a life-cycle of their own – a perpetual circle of being: Nan would spend hours in her kitchen, humming as she stirred bubbling saucepans and filled jars by the dozen, lined up like soldiers, with matching red and white berets, on the kitchen side board. My boys (her great-grandsons) would charm and beg more jars from her each time we visited, hastily making the desired exchange: a clanking bag of empty jars...