It was there, gleaming in the window of one of my fave (if somewhat nuts) cherry tree shops. I say "nuts" because it is run by two old dears who each own a mahoosive greyhound. They love nothing better than to sprawl all over the floor of the cherry tree shop and trip up customers, while licking their limbs.
The dogs I mean, not the old dears. They're 80 if they're a day. (The ladies I mean, not the dogs). Oh dear. I'm all discombobulated. I've had 4.5 hours sleep - bear with, darlings.
Anyway, the deal was that if the cake stand was STILL in the shop and no one else coughed up the ridiculous £12 asking price, I could have it for £6. Half price. I hate doing deals in cherry tree gaffs but I also hate being ripped off.
So here it is. Agatha. That's what I have called her. The Prince would have been called Agatha Rose, had he been a girl (or Elsie Violet). So the newest member of the cake stand clan gets the name instead.
|Making friends with the others (god, I am so weird)|
|I swear I NEVER thought I would get so excited over this|
Talking of cakes, I've been looking forward to Cake Friday all week. There's nothing finer than a good catch up and as much cake as you can handle on a Friday afternoon before the school run.
I made these vanilla cupcakes.
They were lush. Too lush. I am trying not to think about the globules of fat adhering to my thighs as I type...(I've also eaten a huge tube of Mini Eggs.)
This morning I went to the village cafe (no cake but loads of coffee) and put the world to rights with a friend from pre school. She 'fessed up that sometimes, just sometimes, she accidentally switches on Jeremy Kyle and watches the whole show while she does the ironing.
I think she thought I would disown her there and then. Truth is, I'm into my trashy car crash TV occasionally too. Jeremy Kyle, or JK Rowdy as I like to call him, brings a little guilty pleasure comfort into my home. In his own way, our JK is saying there is a far worse parent than me. Someone with a far bigger bottom. Someone with an even less desirable complexion. Someone who has definitely consumed more calories than they should and someone who really shouldn't be wearing a tracksuit (not that I would do the latter anyway but you get my drift).
So we laughed about that. Then went a little wistful when our children's P.E. teacher nipped in for a sandwich. He's rather handsome you see, and wears shorts in all weather. We tried not to look but we struggled. It was such a challenge.
The Princess is taking school very seriously and now knows her 25 times table (blimey, didn't do that in my day). She's so sweet at the mo, wearing perfume and writing amazing songs in her bedroom and trying to hide from the pesky little brother.
I was talking to the Prince the other day while I was washing up. About the Gruffalo and about how we should do some digging in the garden. I then sang him some nursery rhymes.
It was wasted on him.
|Was it something I said?!|
Oh roll on spring, I need to get walking, spend more time beside the sea. Spend more time admiring daffs in the glorious countryside we live in.
It's Feb! We survived the winter! Go give yourself a High Five!