Moments, memories and meal to cherish: exclusive extract from Nigel Slater’s new book

We stop. The driver can no longer see the road ahead, let alone negotiate its potholes. I am wondering whether the roof of his immaculate, ancient Morris Oxford, with its crocheted antimacassars washed and ironed daily by his mother, can take the force of the rain or if the engine will flood. Rain has always felt like a benign occurrence, even more so here, but this is a whole new level of rain. I feel tiny, threatened.