The week that's been has been one of ups and downs. We had a junior recipe tester in hospital (down) who was completely fine (up). The end of school for the term (up) and a redundancy, which means loads of time as a family (up), a dinner celebration to mark the occasion (up) and a small issue of income (you know).
Big family events tackled with composure and decorum. A dear friend once told me that I unnecessarily sweat the small stuff. At the time, I disagreed. In the intervening 25 years I have come to suspect his character assessment may have been right. I will here add a caveat: I do not count buttercream amongst the small stuff.
If I'm honest, I struggle to keep up with all the school paperwork, and it is often very late in the evening/week/month when I catch up with the newsletter. I did remember the school cake stall I was to produce cupcakes for on Saturday. I did not perceive the need for cakes to be deposited at school on Friday, not Saturday, until very late on Thursday night. I duly got up early Friday morning, and along with the martyred sisterhood, I baked.
Come time for the school run, the cupcakes were not sufficiently cooled to ice. Even at the death nell, they had to be left behind. In an attempt to behave in a relaxed manner, befitting the near commencement of the holidays, I resisted the urge to have a tantrum. And so, cake-less, we completed the school drop off.
On our return home, and with icing finally completed and sprinkles carefully positioned, we had precious little time to get back to school for the cake drop off before our next engagement. The most pleasing aspect of the cake task was that there were 3 cupcakes which resolutely refused to fit in the container for school. I had two junior recipe testers at home with me. There was nothing for it.
Two cake-filled juniors were then ready to leave. I initially made a lame, health-related attempt at resisting the consumption of cake, but sanity prevailed. I decided I would eat my cupcake en route. After all, it would surely be more relaxing to eat it while seated, albeit while driving, than while running around trying to organise cupcakes and juniors.
The juniors got into the car. Just before I inserted the key into the ignition I looked down. Inexplicably, chocolate buttercream icing was squished into every crevice of every key on my keyring. I looked at my now un-iced cupcake. The one I had been holding in the same hand as the keys.
I got out of the car. The tantrum that followed was a most undignified way to the herald the start of the school holidays...
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