Jamie’s Big Dream

Some little noises were coming from the kitchen, as though someone was opening the cupboards and taking out some crockery and utensils. The boy who was behind these noises was merrily humming a tune as he worked.

“James Trevor, shouldn’t you be doing your homework?” came a stern voice from behind him. “You don’t want to get another D!”

The boy who had just taken a measuring jug out of the cupboard jumped right out of his skin. The swift movement caused a dusting of flour to fall from the edge of the workshop.

“No, I don’t,” the boy replied shyly, keeping his eyes on the ground. “But I’m just in the middle of something. Please can I finish it first? If it works, dinner will be delicious this evening. And…” he added, a hint of defiance in his voice, “Mum said I could.”

His father just sighed and left the kitchen again. Jamie shrugged his shoulders and returned to his cooking. It was true that he hadn’t been doing too well with his reading recently, and he wasn’t getting on much better with writing either. It was as though the letters grew legs and started jumping about in front of his eyes, and Jamie couldn’t read a single line without getting them in a muddle.

With cooking it was different. When he was in the kitchen, Jamie felt like a king. From a very young age, he had loved watching his parents cooking. And they did cook a lot! His family owned a pub in the English countryside, where they cooked all day long, and well into the night.

Whenever Jamie wasn’t busy watching the hustle and bustle in the pub kitchen, he loved looking at cookery books. He didn’t bother…