My dad came over to the UK in the early sixties. He was Spanish and had met my English mum a few years before. Originally, they had intended to marry and live in Spain, but plans changed, and they spent all their married life here in Weston. Dad soon missed familiar tastes and would try and replicate Spanish meals at home. Our house was the only one on the street that smelled of garlic in those days. One particular story sticks in my mind. Dad told me that when he first came over, he couldn’t buy saffron anywhere to make paella. He finally managed to track some down in a chemist on the high street and would buy it from there for many years. Every time he needed saffron he would be asked how many strands he wanted? And would have to buy by the strand. He was totally bemused by this, as were the chemists, who wondered why on earth he wanted more than a couple of strands!!