Let Them Eat Cake

I don't know if you may have gathered this about me already, but I am a firm supporter and believer in cake. During my holiday in France, for example, I scoffed quite a few chocolate eclairs and a very yummy coconut affair in this sweet little tea salon.

So, upon my return to England and the drudgery of work, I decided to share my passion and transport a chocolate cake back from the shores of France to the Hellmouth. We have one of those handy little fridges you can run off a cigarette lighter in a car and so we had it running all the way through the journey and all through the night in our hotel room in Ouistreham. And let me tell you: it's not quiet. The bugger kept me awake all night. But we'd bought some little cakes for Boyf's grandparents and other lovely people too so we thought it was worth it.

Yesterday morning, as I readied myself for work, I took the cake out of the fridge and sticky taped the box shut. I placed it in a shopping bag. Then I went into the hall for my coat, picked up my handbag, and ran for the bus, leaving the cake sitting in the conservatory, waiting to melt.

Ho hum. I rang the Boyf to tell him the news, and asked him to bring it when he picked me up from work so the late night staff could have it. Ever so obligingly, Boyf picked it up from my house and took it to his house, where he placed it safely in the fridge, then immediately forgot about it and picked me up sans cake.

In the end, his mother ate it.

Oh well, at least I remembered to bring in Studmuffin's bottle of plonk today, before she got her mitts on that!