Why hello there everyone,
It seems that I am forever apologising for my shoddy blog posting schedules these days, even to the point where I pop out a post called ‘Bacon, Part 1′, to which there never appears a ‘part 2′ that I had so frivolously promised you all…..
So, to sum up what I would have written in that post if I hadn’t wandered off into my life to attend a myriad of other bits and pieces;
Bacon, part 2.
The Brother got bacon. Lots of it. And gleefully ate it in front of the snooty waiter. HUZZAH! I hear you shout, all is indeed right with the world again!
And so to today’s wee tale….(That’s a Scottish small bit btw, not me harping on about wetting my knickers or anything…Which I obviously don’t do and haven’t done since I was 3ish…Just so we’re clear.)
I went out for a lovely lunch with some of The Friends today, and in between entertaining the Very Cool Almost-Four Year Old Friend, and cuddling The Tiny Six Week Old Friend, the more adult versions of the above and I had a lovely time with another of The Friends (yes, I know there’s almost a surplus of The Friends in that last sentence, but do bear with me…)
Anyway, lunch: Tasty. (Nom) Cheap. (Marvs) And fun (of course). Naturally, as we declined any type of pudding at the end of the meal, our thoughts turned to cake. (Mmmm, cake!) Yes, today dear readers, cake saved my actual life.
Here’s how it happened……
Me: Ooh, better not have a pudding, tut tut and all that.
Friend: Ah yes, but have you tried the bakery round the corner? It’s the best one for miles.
Me: Dammit woman, now I’m going to have to go and buy cake!
Yes, I realise I have the willpower of a particularly weak (and podgy) gnat, but it all turns out good in the end, I promise. So, The Friend and I bade farewell to all the others, and headed off in my car to find said mythical bakery that’s apparently ‘just around the corner’. By this point, I’m already imagining row upon row of gorgeous pastries, buns and delicate little cupcakes decorated in beautiful pastel colours, and may or may not have been salivating at the thought, almost to the point of dribbling. (But not actually dribbling, I do have some control!)
Aaaaanyway, The bakery was proving somewhat difficult to find, but with the help of a cheeky look or three on a google map we were soon winging our way in the right general direction. (Other internet based map-tools are available)
As we pulled into the car park, we spied the little row of shops that held the bakery nestled in the middle of it like a particularly tasty jewel in the crown. Now I’m not going to say that we ran at the front door as though there was a tidal wave at our backs, but there may have been a small amount of brisk walking going on. What can I say? It’s cake for goodness sake! (Ooh, rhyming with cake, a whole new and delicious pastime)
I should get a medal for only buying one. I really should. I feel smug and happy about this, and no one can make me feel otherwise.
The Friend was very good and bought one for her other half too. Big brownie points there….Except it was rocky road (See what I did there, I’m all about the cake-themed jokes, me!) Then we took one big last whiff of the delicious aromas floating about the bakery, and headed outside with our oh-so-precious cakey cargo.
I’ll be honest with you, I was all about staying on mission and getting home so that we could enjoy our goodies in my front room watching something with Channing Tatum in it… So I was in a bit of a rush to get out of the car park, when a helpful citizen (Yes, they do still exist) alerted me to the fact that one of my back tyres was flat. Flat as the proverbial pancake. Now this tyre was about as useful as if there had been an actual pancake instead of a wheel, so I proceeded to do what I think all drivers have been doing to flat tyres since the dawn of time:
I got out of the car and went round to look at it. I frowned, put my hands on my hips and kicked at it. This is universally recognised around the world as the first step when dealing with a flat tyre; look it up, it’s true because it is in loads of movies throughout history!
There was nothing for it than to limp back into a space, and do the next thing on the list when girls get flat tyres: We called our Dads.
The Parent was still at work and had his ‘I’m doing serious business work-y bits here’ voice on, but still was an absolute angel and agreed to come and rescue us once he left work. In the mean time, he wanted us to locate the spare wheel and swap it over.
Oh, good, it happened to be school-chucking out time just as I had to lie on the floor a la ‘beached whale’ and scrabble about underneath and retrieve the VERY dirty and rusty spare wheel. And there was many an irate parent glaring at me. And oh even more good, that would be a big 4×4 reversing into the space behind trying to run over my head. Now all we needed was for it to start….what? It DID start raining? Marvellous. Cue all the jokes about ‘spare tyres’ here….!
The Friend and I got our hands very grubby grappling with the spare, which we condemned due to it’s extremely geriatric and frankly fragile appearance, yet when The Parent arrived an hour later (and after a trip to a handily-placed pub for us) he cheerfully whacked the doddery looking object that might once have been rubber tyre on my useless car, and made me follow him all the way to the garage in the next town.
It turns out there was a dirty great nail perched rather malevolently in the flat, and as there was no fixing that, it’s popped off to go wherever tyres go; probably tyre heaven, if such a place exists….
So there you have it. How The Cake Saved The World. Or at least mine and The Friends lives, because without that little trip to the cake shop of dreams, we would have been travelling down a motorway, and I have a nasty feeling that we may have not been as lucky if we’d been travelling at 72mph. Dramatic, I know!
Actual proof that cake is good for your health. (Mmmmm, CAKE!)
Fatty Blob Head