Something happened this week … involving a cookie … and I’d like to get it off my chest. Me and Brad have been so busy and stressed and naturally not been all that cute. So Monday comes around and I’m like, I feel like doing something really sweet. But I just couldn’t be bothered to bake myself (yes that happens to me sometimes!) I called up Millie’s cookies and asked for her loveliest giant cookie. It was ready really quickly and I went to collect it. And I got ‘you smile I
I have two great loves, and they are both B’s. Bradley and Baking. Baking is full of comfort. It’s the best smelling hobby, least horrible job and most homely way to share some grub. Of course, I mostly bake cake. And mine and cake’s relationship is a little hate and a lot of love. There are times cake tests my patience and moments she’ll show me how goddamn beautiful food can be. Cake is a she because she is sweet, often round and filled with tempting layers. Cake is my kind
Don't worry, it's not a cake and it's not jelly. It’s me! I’m feeling all kinds of burnt and wobbly after this morning’s trip to the gym. My legs are like jelly, my bum is like jelly and my abs are like really sore, painful jelly. I’m in this bizarre, burnt jelly place right now. Luckily, I’ve learnt to love this ‘after exercise’ jelly-ness. Exercise lets my sensitive, anxious parts seem misty and faraway. Those utterly self conscious days are soul destroying. And they have m
It’s dull outside, and windy and not very special. Monday blues are surely just around the corner. Only they’re not, because I’m sat here in only cosy clothes, drinking ovaltine and eating salmon and egg on toast. It’s my unofficial day off you see. There’s a peanut buttery smell oozing from the oven and I’m about to whip up some irresistibly rich, chocolate buttercream. Peanut butter, practically gold dust. I mean, there are so many ways to make the most of it’s yumminess. I
I always thought I was a bit of a perfectionist. Until realising just how mind-numbingly perfect I wanted everything to be. Cakes must be so perfect I go a little crazy. Look as perfect as possible all the live long day. Go out of my way to avoid confrontation and other 'imperfect' things. Something changed in me at the end of last year. I realised anxiety and perfectionism, the whole lot of it, was stopping me from just enjoying life and all it's wonderful imperfections. And
The sun’s bursting through these windows, and my buttercream’s going all soft on me. There’s a zesty, fruity smell about the house, thanks to lemon drizzle and I’m just re reading the blurbs of these holiday reads I picked up today. Holiday. Just saying the word makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I can’t wait to wander and wear a fabulous hat and feel the sun on my face and sand on my feet and just float in the sea far away from anything troubling. Oh holiday, please hurry up.
Tasteen. Pronounced like taste - een. Anybody else have an irish Gran that says this word? When Brad told me it wasn’t actually a word I had to check the dictionary … it just rolls of the tongue too nicely not to be real … “Not a big slice of cake, just a tasteen please.” It isn’t in the dictionary, but it’s a gaelic word which Gran says and I therefore love. Gran's special. Cuppa tea Queen, wonderfully clever and always smiling. She just kind of embodies sweetness. The littl
I do it all the time. I run out of chocolate, so I pop out on a chocolate run to pick up more. I’m chocolate runnin’. There are people out there who will just never understand my relationship with chocolate. And that’s okay … just let me be. In boyfriend terms, chocolate is the perfect man. He is always there to make me feel better. And when everything seems dreary, he reminds me of something that will always be good in my life. He accepts my sweet tooth and doesn’t make fun