My tomatoes never ripened. They remained thick-skinned and a dark bottle-green inside my flimsy plastic greenhouse. But they were plentiful - about 30 of them - and sizeable.

However, it is Autumn and the weather is now decidedly chilly.

Time for them to come indoors. I had kept them, as advised by many, in a drawer wrapped in newspaper alongside a ripe banana AND an apple - for good measure. An old-fashioned method.

But a week later, nothing had changed. They were still hard and dark green.

I was told to be patient and in a couple of months, I MIGHT achieve a tinge of red.

Months? I have no patience for that!

I found a recipe for Green Tomato Chutney. I figured I'd get a better result in the short-term!

Now, I must digress cos this musing is NOT about making chutney. And not really about any other bottlings, for that matter.

I needed jam jars. I'd used up my lovely Kilner-type ones on a 4-fruit marmalade. A bottling that, this time, produced a solid mix - akin to the consistency of a packet jelly. It was very thick! I don't know what happened to it. Usually folk complain that their marmalade is too runny. I was disappointed.

But the flavour was spot-on. Maybe it was the Cointreau that I'd added to the warm jars before the bubbling mix was bottled? A great marmalade to kickstart anyone's day, I reckon!

More digression... back to, 'I needed jam jars'.

There's a charity shop in the next village that usually has a stack of them. Obviously there, jam-making is way down the Autumn list of things-to-do. So, sure enough, I found more than enough for my chutney.

But once there, I couldn't resist a look round the vintage tray cloths and other bits of old tat. So much dinky vintage china! So paper-thin with so many floral combos!

Me and flowery patterns.

It's the 'dinky' bit I want to muse about.

Those dainty cups compared to my Le Creuset mugs; the glass sundae dishes that are so small they could be used as tealight holders; nip glasses more peedie than a shot glass; dishes with a very shallow reservoir for soup and a huge flattened rim to maybe make the amount of soup seem larger? Teaspoons so tiny that only held a small measure of sugar; vintage ashets, for a grand display of sliced meat, the equivalent to our dinner plates.

The point is : the portion size was so much smaller then, than it is now.

No wonder my Great Grandma's generation looked so small and wiry. They lived in tiny houses with tiny windows. They had lots of pieces of small china in their kitchenettes for smallish portions of food. And after they'd eaten, they sat by the fire on small chairs and then slept in their short beds.

I've heard Brexiteers confidently state: 'We've managed before and we'll manage again.' Yes, but can we get by on those smaller portions?

I bought a vintage fruit bowl. Traditionally not used for stacking fresh fruit, but for holding tinned fruit like sliced peaches, pear halves, broken orange segments, or fruit cocktail. Traditionally summer fruit came from the garden or hedgerow, while winter fruit was scarce and pricy, and more often came from a tin.

Could we really go back to that?

On reflection, my Green Tomato Chutney might serve me well Post-Brexit. It goes well with tinned meat - especially Spam. And I have lots of tins of Spam in my Brexit store cupboard! Ha ha.

Time to think about vintage, methinks?

Vintage without all that cute & cuddly nostalgia, but Vintage with those smaller meagre portions.

Cripes! I'm off to get a bar of chocolate.

: )