It was such a good day yesterday; even Mother Nature decided to show off for Spence’s birthday, which is appreciated. After presents, lunch & cake, we decided to head down to the beach for the afternoon where I discovered, upon trudging up a bunch of steps from the sand, I am even more unfit than I thought I was.
Thanks for all the Happy Birthday wishes – I still don’t want to believe my wee man is one already, that must have been the fastest year in history. Thanks also for the comments about the cake; I know you’re just being nice, but I appreciate it. It was such an ordeal; I really, really, really, really don’t like making birthday cakes.
I don’t like baking very much in the first place, but pair that with trying to ice the damn thing & make it look halfway presentable – just so that it can be demolished in a matter of moments – it is not at all my idea of a good time.
Halfway through the process I said to Mr that it’s just as well I don’t go the Women’s Weekly cake route; there would be tears from everyone involved. As it is I kind of just make it up as I go along – ditching the dodgey pieces of cake & using icing as a kind of fix all super-glue. I’ve already asked Punk what sort of cake she wants for her birthday & she said “pink”. I’m pretty sure THAT, I can do.