Cake Lady

Cake lady, I know what it is you seek

Ingredients to make and then bake your cake

I know cause I have seen you and your kind

On TV and down at the supermarket.

Where shawl covering your shopping arm

You take down the usual suspects quietly without a little charm,

Strong flour, raisins, butter, and eggs all come down without a fight, and this

Despite, their being out of the proverbial frying pan and into the hot oven that very night.

Onto the conveyor they go with milk and teabags and what have you

To the smiling cashier who might ask you what you are going to make

With a smile as big as the moon you exclaim Why? however did you know? Today I will bake A Birthday Cake!

And then smiling you go to the shop next door, a FreshCo where you can get digestives to for a pound to go. Then a smiling you wait at the stop to catch the bus home.

Later that same day with all the other shopping put away you begin the ceremony Flick on the radio, wash hands and roll up sleeves then go.

On scales, butter is weighed and flour is sieved and eggs are broken then into it you go up to the elbows in a slimy show of cake goo with wooden spoon.

Then into the food processor, it goes along with a blessing to the god of cakes. Come out right and I will bake you another you recite.

Cake tray is smeared with grease on kitchen towel white and you wipe your brow knowing the time is close now.

Then it’s the pour, then you close the oven door. And wait…

Thirty minutes later it’s done. Hurrah. And you look out of the windows and note another downpour.

But the birthday won’t come late despite the weather you think…

It’s popped out of the tray and onto the rack for cooling and that skewer goes in and comes out and you seem to be satisfied by the result. You rub your chin and decide. Let it cool for at least an hour…

What would Mary Berry do you wonder for decorating my grandsons Birthday  Cake You ponder. Isn’t that a printer over yonder?

The Icing is made in batches then coloured like a rainbow and all is set for the grand finale. Little hands that help you brush on jam to help it stick and little fingers to wipe them clean. Don’t put them in your mouth you say stern eyes all the way. Then it’s ready and smiles all around ready for the big unveiling.

Later that night…

It’s a solemn affair as he turns the big seven and with party hat on tight he stands there eyes screwed shut.

‘Now open them’ you say

‘Hip Hip Hurrah’

‘It’s Noddy’s train’ he says excitedly

‘Dear grandson, Happy Birthday!’

He blows out the candles seven and a little Birthday Angel Flies back up to heaven.

Job done you think.

Now it’s time for that drink…


This was written with a competition in mind but it came out far too long so I published it here instead. Hope you enjoy!

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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