My Mother's Fruit Cake

This is the cake of my childhood.
The recipe is in ounces and gills
and it is always wrapped in greaseproof paper.
The smell of it reminds me of picnics on the beach
or perhaps a late afternoon in a boat;
rugs and wellies at point-to-points
or sheltering under rocks on the moor.
When I asked my mother for the recipe
she said, without thinking,
"just sling it all together"