I am, in truth, an incurable showoff: disgustingly competitive and wanting nothing more than to bathe in the adoration of others. Which is why I was irritated this week, when the home baking I’d poured blood, sweat and golden syrup into looked, well…home baked.
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. That is, my hopes and dreams and white chocolate are in it; the kitchen utensils that betrayed me are on the draining-board. Today I detail one moderate success and one unmitigated disaster, with pictures for your… Read More