In 2013, my husband, Pete, and I joined the National Trust during a visit to Chartwell, a country house in Kent. After that, on quiet days we’d dust off the handbook of castles, houses, gardens and monuments, but would never go anywhere. Months later, we finally decided on a day at Osterley Park, a mile from home in west London.
When we returned, I realised I couldn’t remember a thing about it. I decided to write a blog, outlining where we’d been and what we’d seen, which also motivated us to visit more places.
I wanted a common thread to make it more interesting, and immediately thought: scones. They’re synonymous with the National Trust, so I settled on a plan to review the scones at all 244 properties with a tearoom, and set up the National Trust Scones website.
My first review was at Petworth House in West Sussex, home to an original manuscript of The Canterbury Tales. The blog faced its first hurdle when we found only cake in the cafe. Disappointed, I ate a slice and left, only to discover a second tearoom on the way out, with scones on the menu. That night, Countryfile was on TV and John Craven was baking National Trust scones. It was a sign.
I became single-minded about my endeavour. I’d always head to the tearoom first and order a cream tea with a fruit scone. My review criteria were generous but rigorous. The National Trust is staffed largely by volunteers, so I didn’t want to be too critical.
I mentally rated scones out of five, looking for freshness first. If they were fresh, you’re immediately into four territory. Then, the rise. If the top and bottom could easily be separated and they were fresh, it was a five. On a handful of occasions, there were no scones at all. That was a zero.
When I first started, approaches to scones varied wildly. Some places would give you two; others would give one so small you needed a microscope to see it. Consistency improved over the years, and the absolute dream was a menu with cheese, fruit and plain scones, plus a scone of the month.
The National Trust was aware of my odyssey. When I started, I wondered if I’d be hit with a cease and desist letter, but a few months in, one employee invited me to bake scones with them at Flatford, in Suffolk, which was fun. In 2016, I was asked to write the National Trust Book of Scones, containing 50 recipes, which was amazing. But other than that, I continued my quest undercover.
I’m a marketing executive and a Brentford fan, so I had to fit all this around work and football. Pete and I would mostly take day trips. In 2018, he died from non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. While he was ill, we did less, but after his death my project kept me going.
In August 2019, I took the month off and visited 26 National Trust sites. A group of school friends and their children came with me to Horsey Windpump near Great Yarmouth.
This March, aged 49, I visited my final property with my mum, my sister and her other half: Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland. Pete and I had been there before and I knew I wanted to end my journey there. The main thing I felt was emotion – that, and: “Thank God there’s a scone.” It was warm, fresh and delicious. It was so good that I went back the next day to see if it was really that great or if I’d just been overwhelmed.
The press covered my mission; seeing Pete’s picture on the telly and in the papers was like having him back for a week, which felt extremely emotional.
Before I started this, I was fairly ambivalent about scones. They invite disagreements. I’m sweet over savoury, jam first and I pronounce it “skon”, like “gone”. However, the journey has been fantastic on so many levels. I never thought it would take 10 years. The National Trust kept adding properties, which didn’t make it easy. And while Twitter can be a horrible place, my scones community isn’t.
I’ve been educated, I’ve brought friends and family together, met new people and created memories with Pete. People sometimes think I would be sick of scones, but I still look forward to my next one. They’re the unsung heroes of the cake world.
• As told to Deborah Linton
Do you have an experience to share? Email experience@theguardian.com
