I am desperate. It is too cold to venture out and Eeh Bah Son is not well. Plus I bumped the car in our rush to get to the doctors and have got the fear behind the wheel again.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. We are staying in.
We are going to make mince pies. I bought emergency mincemeat for exactly this occasion.
We get everything out of the cupboards. By everything I mean exactly that.
As I poke around the baking cupboard (flour, scales, blue and yellow food colouring) my eager 3 year old assistant and her snotty 18 month old accomplice empty the contents of the entire kitchen on to the floor.
I own 7 bags of flour, not one of them is plain flour. I am a total flour wanker. I don’t even know what rye flour is for. I am worried I may have been sleep supermarket shopping.
We abandon the mince pie idea and decide to make buns instead. The emergency mincemeat is returned to its hiding place at the back of the cupboard.
I bring out the hidden stool of danger.
The stool of danger is used by both my children to climb onto the kitchen work surfaces and throw kitchen utensils around. This is why it is dangerous. And therefore hidden. It is also the reason why I keep getting stabbed in the head trying to retrieve kitchen knives from the top shelves of cupboards.
In no time at all both children are fighting for space on the stool attempting to help with measuring and mixing. For once no eggshell makes its way into the mix. I am ecstatic although I fear the buns may suffer without their usual special crunch.
Whilst I return stuff to the kitchen cupboards eeh bah daughter uses the stool to steal sausage rolls from the fridge. I get a warm glow when I see her sharing with her brother. They both eat over the cake bowl dropping pastry flakes and sausage meat into the mix. Heston Blumenthal is probably going to shit his pants when he finds out about our sausage roll cupcakes. I hope no one who eats them does.
I realise I have forgotten to put the oven on. Cue half an hour of both children stood in front of the oven waiting for the light to go out whilst I hum ‘There is a light that never goes out’ and slap anyone who asks ‘Is it ready yet?’ with a spatula. I wonder if Morrissey has ever attempted to bake buns with a toddler and a baby. I think if he had he would have definitely written a song about it.
I do a mental check of Smith’s lyrics for any cake references and try to ignore my son at the sink spooning dirty washing up water into his mouth.
The oven light eventually goes out to a round of applause from the gathered crowd. We have forgotten to put the mix into bun cases but I am almost certain Morrissey never sang about baking.
My daughter spreads cake mixture over the entire kitchen worktop. Some of it lands in bun cases. I do one last check for sausage and into the oven they go. Another 15 minutes with both children stood waiting by the oven door toasting their eager little faces.
We make icing. We have just watched a Muppet movie so we decide to make Kermit coloured icing. Because who doesn’t love green cakes with sausage in?
Also who buys blue and yellow food colouring? The only explanation I can come up with is that I am sleep supermarket shopping for ingredients as I have also sleep entered the next series of The Great British Bake Off.
I am going to take some beating in the cakey sausage round.