Another headline herey*

Last night, the Bad Language crew celebrated a year of spoken word shindigs at The Castle hotel in Manchester's Northern Quarter. The back room was really packed, and it was great to catch up with some lovely people I've met at the night (and at other literature events) over the last year and to meet some new folk too. There was birthday cake and much merriment, and the launch of a new anthology (BL's fourth, if I'm not mistaken) with readings from some of the contributors, including prose types and fellow FlashTag writers Benjamin Judge, Fat Roland and Tom Mason, plus Nija Dalal and Nick Garrard, and poetry types Sian Rathore, Anna Percy and Mercedes Fonseca.


The headline slot was divided into two flash fiction sets: one from National Flash-Fiction Day organiser Calum Kerr; t'other from grandmaster flash himself David Gaffney ...and me! Yep, for one night only, and kept secret til the last minute, I was David's "glamorous assistant". I read four of his new stories while he accompanied me on a Casio keyboard with some specially created tunes, and there was rapturous applause and laughter at our comedy double act, silly dancing and ridiculous amount of swears. And yep, we rolled out the "David and his organ" joke. It would be rude not to, really.

Audioboo here. Lawks.

More write-ups of the soiree, from Nici West and Jo Bell and Guy Garrud.

You can read two of the stories, Eat Less Pastry and Inches From What You Want, on David's website here.

*Another one for the sub-editors amongst you.

Books the trend

If you haven't heard of For Books’ Sake - subtitle: "books by and for independent women" - then where have you been? Apart from having probably the best title of any website ever, it's an ezine promoting and celebrating writing by women, and today it is one!

In the last year, For Books’ Sake has featured news, reviews and interviews with iconic and upcoming women authors, been involved in World Book Night 2011 alongside author Margaret Atwood, curated the three-day literary programme for Ladyfest Ten, set up their own lending library and interactive forum, collaborated with Pulp Press on an anthology of the best pulp fiction written by women, scheduled for publication later this year, and coordinated regular live literary events and book groups in Manchester and beyond - not just in that London, which deserves some praise in itself! Plans afoot include a monthly literary clubnight in Manchester, so watch this space.

The girls behind FBS are so ace, and deserve plenty of cake for their efforts. I didn't have any time for baking over the bank holiday, so I've provided a testimonial instead. It goes something like this: "I discovered For Books' Sake back in November, so no longer a babe-in-arms but already a healthy, bouncing site. As something of a spoken word fan, I really love to keep up to date with all the events news and reviews - and the FBS shindigs themselves - plus the regular writing competitions and submissions info." There you go. And if you want to read some stuff I've written for the lovely ladies, you can go here, here and here.

Sweet as...

You would have to have been deep in the Amazonian rainforest not to have noticed the recent pinnacle reached in cupcake outlets and home baker delivery services in Manchester, and, in honour of National Cupcake Week starting today, I thought I'd do a quick round-up of the sweet treats vying for your attention before anyone else yawns and says they're bored of the whole thing.

The original destination outlet in Manchester, Sweet Tooth Cupcakery of Chorlton and, since 7 June, Oldham Street (pictured), offers up the official Cupcake Week flavour for Wednesday with award-winning baker Vicky Parker's Ernest Hemingway creation: ginger cheesecake base with a vanilla and lime sponge, lemon and lime curd and a toasted meringue topping. I popped into the Northern Quarter "milk bar" branch for a vegan chai-flavoured David Lynch (see bottom photo) and a damn fine coffee with co-owner Fred Royle, who gave me the skinny on his and wife Lorna's business USP: creative, nicely retro, with plenty of Northern charm. On 25 September, Sweet Tooth's Vicky is teaming up with Ministry Of Craft to run a two-and-a-half hour cake-decorating workshop (a second follows in October), while the Sweet Tooth Cupcakery (who you can follow on Twitter at @Sweettooth_UK) is also up for Best Newcomer in this year's Manchester Food & Drink Awards: winners will be announced at a special ceremony during the Manchester Food & Drink Festival on 11 October.


Afflecks-based The Cocoa Emporium vintage cafe and cakeshop offers competition in the Northern Quarter (more on that here). Also in on the trend is Hey Little Cupcake, whose Sex And The City-inspired, Prestwich-based MD Sarah Wilson (@HLCupcake) cottoned onto yet another concept imported from the States: the pop-up shop. She'll be manning her temporary retail space in Spinningfields for the next week or so if you need a sugary hit while in town. Oh Crumbs! Cupcakes (@ohcrumbscupcake) also supply a number of city centre venues once the pop-up place folds.

Out in the suburbs, Chorlton-based Peach Pie was recently tried and tested (Michelle and Vicky's caramel shortbread was a sugary hit in more ways than one) at the last (and possibly last ever) Didsbury Food Market, as was a moist and fluffy slice of classic coffee and walnut sponge cake from And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon (@dishesandspoons). Another husband and wife team, Anna and James are due to open a new shop and tearoom later this month on hipster-rich Burton Road in West Didsbury: you're spoilt for choice here, with other establishments, including Silver Apples and Folk, also selling homemade cakes. Also in Didsbury is home baker Airy Fairy Cupcakes, with ex-marketing gal Laura (@airyfairycakes) getting in on the social media scene and supplying boxes of blue-iced beauties for the inaugural South Manchester Tweetup in August.


Finally, although it is slightly off message, there's The English Rose Bakery, whose Emma Brown (@englishrosebkry) has cunningly eschewed the cutthroat competitiveness of cupcakes to shower Manchester with the niche macaroon. Flavours include the company's signature English Rose, plus almond, chocolate, pistachio, Earl Grey, caramel and vanilla. She plied the recent Parlour Chorlton opening bash with a "macaroon tier", whatever that may be. The only thing is, I'm just not sure I'm a fan of macaroons. I'm still trying to acquire a taste for almonds, and, allegorically, I'm still stuck puking on the side of a mountain having been dragged up here by overly Gore-Texed Alpha males trying to prove that the panorama will be worth it. One day I may well see the view and be amazed, but until then I'm not complaining about the cakes.

Losing the thread

I'm having a hiatus. I don't think it needs surgery, but I'm insisting that it involves plenty of bed rest. As a result of this extended break from office life, I spent my last week (last week) not only trying to facilitate some kind of work handover but also running hither-thither round town checking off tasks and visits from my current inventory of extra-curricular cultural excursions.

One such list entry was a long overdue trip to Manchester Craft & Design Centre to peruse the Threadbare show, as promised right here on this blog, ooh, a while back.

I was, it has to be admitted, slightly underwhelmed. Debbie Smyth's work is definitely interesting - black cotton (with focal points of blue) looped around pins to create a picture (think 21st-century take on those 1970s kaftan-swishing art teacher numbers so rarely found in charity shops) - but Threadbare turned out, disappointingly, to be less of an exhibition and more of an exhibit.


A large piece extends over two perpendicular walls in the light-diffused main space, and while I felt a tad unsure about stepping up onto the white dais to squint at things close up, I'm pretty certain this (the stepping up, not the squinting) was intended, as otherwise you'd need to have brought your opera glasses to read the info panel in the far corner. The scene depicted is the Northern Quarter streets surrounding the Craft Centre (a nice touch for this special commission), complete with air con units, metal rollershutters and lonesome road sweeper. The perspective and detail already have merit in themselves before the threading adds an extra creative dimension; giving the artwork a pen and ink feel while simultaneously having the effect of softening the lines.



Threadbare does also include a number of smaller pieces, including a rather beautiful bear, but these are displayed in glass cabinets round the back of the main number. In fact, they're in the cafe area, which is great if you're enjoying a coffee and cake but rather more of a strain if you have to crane over the heads of those people innocently relaxing with a mocha and a muffin. Ah well, if you go with the intention of seeing just the main piece (and you have until 30 October), you'll not be disappointed.

Now, if you fancy getting crafty yourself, the artist Debbie Smyth is giving two classes on textile sketching, and the first is today (the next is on Saturday 9 October, which gives you a little more warning!). Starting at 10am, the workshops run until 4pm, and a full day is just £30. Call 0161 832 4274 or email exhibitions@craftanddesign.com.

Questions, questions, questions

Bloody hell, last night was the inaugural Bad Language Literature Quiz at the inimitable Waldorf and our team, The Arndale Twin Toilet Cubicle Confusion (yeah, ask Ben of Ask Ben & Clare), just missed the top spot by one point. No thanks to me - I'm just the lucky mascot, not the brains behind the outfit. The brains were Ben, Ian, Dave and Helen.

Not one to be discouraged by being crap at quizzes, however, I purposefully strode over to interrupt one third of the BL massive and query (for your benefit, dear literary quiz-enjoying readers) whether a second outing might be in the offing, the first one having gone so swimmingly. Joe was certainly up for the idea, so, if another function is organised, rest assured W&F will let you know.

By way of getting us warmed up, poet Max Wallis read some of his work (including a liberal hundreds-and-thousands sprinkling of "fucks"), while short story writer David Gaffney took to the floor during the all-important marking stage, treating us to some of his immense flash fiction, plus a couple of his Destroy PowerPoint presentations. We all got giddy and overexcited, possibly from eating some extremely pink cupcakes, maybe from nearly scooping the glittering first prize, but mainly at handing over five whole pounds (note to self: owe Ben a fiver) and getting our books signed. Sawn-Off Tales for me; Never Never and Aroma Bingo for the boys.


Cheekily, I asked Mr Gaffney if he wouldn't mind submitting a question to Ask Ben & Clare; he said I ought to put forward a contribution to his project The Poole Confessions. Briefly: "Over the summer short story writer David Gaffney will collect the anonymous confessions of the people of Poole and turn them into micro-short stories. He will read these short stories in special intimate one-to-one performances in a custom built mobile confessional box at Poole Literary Festival." I already have two confessions in mind. It's anonymous; I can't tell you what they are. You'll just have to guess.

It's all about me

Last week, some survey by some person somewhere revealed that Manchester is the third biggest European user of Twitter. We come after London and Paris, so we're in good company. It goes without saying, but I will anyway, that I have lived in all three of these hip'n'happening cities and no other conurbation (unless you count Liverpool which I inhabited for perhaps as long as a month).

Anyway, as if to prove the Rainy City's position of social media status, yesterday was a busy old day in Manchester's interweb.

First off, some bloke from The Guardian did some live Tweeting travel feature thing: "armed only with a mobile phone – and ready to go wherever the best of your tweets take him". He was called Benji Lanyado and it was called the TwiTrip. Yawn. Still, somehow me, along with many of the other regular Manc Twitterers, got sucked into the whole thing and started blatantly self-promoting and showboating, and desperately bigging up places for this bloke to go in a "my suggestion's better than yours" kind of way. I was finally namechecked at about 7pm, along with my Chorlton mate Gill: "@benjilanyado: Instalations at the Cornerhouse, thanks to @Wordsnfixtures @Gillmphoto & @popisthis http://flic.kr/p/8tt24N". If you're remotely arsed, you can see the TwiTrip to Manchester in its entirety here.

Secondly and very bizarrely, @wordsnfixtures starting trending on Twitter. WTF? This is what the Tweet said: "@TrendsManc: Sarah-Clare Conlon, @wordsnfixtures is now trending in #Manchester http://trendsmap.com/gb/manchester". My colleague Josh (aka @technicalfault) loudhailed this announcement across the office (which was rather embarrasing as it does probably mean that I'd spent more of the day dicking about on Twitter than doing any actual work. And we all know that such a thing would never happen, right? RIGHT?). He then showed me how to do a screengrab, for proof, like. Look, I'm right at the top, above that Benji bloke:



Thirdly, the first-ever South Manchester Tweet-up chugged back some ciders and shimmied into its sparkle boob tube for a night out in Didsbury Village. Such a glamourpuss, this latest social media mover and shaker has not one, but two hashtags: #southmcrtweetup and #southmanchestertweetup. Organised by Tom Mason (@totmac) and Nicola Cooper-Abbs (@ncooperabbs), the get-together went swimmingly with quite a gaggle of creatives, SEOs, PRs, developers, local business reps and even some "normal" folk, and lovely Laura from Airy Fairy Cupcakes put on a spread of sweet treats. Didsbury Life's Helen (who I didn't recognise because I am a complete dunce, although, in my defence, it has been a while) is going to do a write-up about it, so look out for all the action shots down on the DL blog. Rumour has it the next SMTU might be in Chorlton. Hold on to your hats, kids, I'll be able to crawl home!

A moment of fiction #6

This edition of A Moment Of Fiction sees a few new issues of zines we've talked about before hit the shelves, plus there are some submissions deadlines looming I thought I'd better mention.

To celebrate its first birthday, The Shrieking Violet is gorging itself with a epicurial special and issue 10 (no, I didn't get it either) features all sorts of food-related articles and recipes, including a review of the infamous Manchester Egg by poet, photographer and my neighbour Hayley Flynn, a cake map of Manchester by the Loiterers Resistance Movement's Morag Rose and a guide to foraging the very best berries by Alan Smith (also of the Loiterers Resistance Movement). Nom. The cover is by David Bailey of Good Grief! in Afflecks Palace, where you can pick up copies of the zine (also try Oklahoma, Cornerhouse, Manchester Craft Centre, An Outlet, Koffee Pot, Nexus Art Cafe and Piccadilly Records while the Salford Zine Library is outta town on vacation in Durham).

Thursday, meanwhile, sees the launch of issue 4 of Bewilderbliss, complete with a party and readings and everything in the NQ's Cord from 7pm. The outgoing team (as in they will shortly be handing over the reins, not as in they are a bunch of extreme extroverts, though they may well be that too) includes none other than Bristol Prize-winning writer Valerie O’Riordan, and the latest issue includes a story by my blogging friend and not-so-secret project collaborateur Benjamin Judge.

Following a successful launch a couple of weeks back, copies of the fragrant 3030 magazine ran out due to popular demand! I've been assured Common and Piccadilly Records have been restocked, and the issue is now up on the website too.

Pantheon magazine are looking for submissions for their second issue. The closing date is 4 September and full details are here.

The Bad Language creative writing posse are also inviting you to send in work for consideration for their second anthology, this time by 6 September. All information is here.

If you'd prefer to express yourself through visual rather than written means, I can think of worse projects with which to get involved than Papergirl MCR. Head girl Janice Stainton (@PapergirlMCR on that Twitter) is looking for artists and designers to submit up to 10 pieces of individual works or prints of up to 20 copies (doodles, photography, screenprinting, painting...) as well as cyclists willing to get involved in delivery. Submissions close on 1 September; to submit, send an email with your name and a link to your website to papergirlmanchester@gmail.com then hand in your work at Nexus Art Cafe, Dale Street, Manchester, M1 1JW, or post your work to Papergirl Manchester, 7 Ophthalmic Works, 2 Naples Street, Manchester, M4 4DB. (What a great address, by the way.)

ARCHIVE: Here are all the most recent posts of this ilk, if you need to look back over the various creative writing groups already mentioned and publications open to submissions: A Moment Of Fiction #1, #2, #3, #4 and #5, plus the Mini Moments Of Fiction: #1 and #2.

And don't forget to let me know if you want anything mentioning on this humble blog!

The great uncloched

There's a house I sometimes wander past Whalley Range way, and come winter I am always delighted to see that the green-fingered soul who lives there protects his or her alpines with a number of cloches. The rockery looks like a mini Moonbase Alpha and it never fails to make me smile. (This garden cloche, or bell jar, as they call it - although I would argue that's something taller and usually involves taxidermy or Sylvia Plath - is available at Hippy Shopper, BTW. I would presume you have to grow the courgettes yourself, however.)


I'm quite a fan of cloches, actually. I don't have any in my garden (perhaps that's why there have been a number of fatalities out there this year; not least a rare pale pink fuchsia grown by my mum from a cutting she pinched off a plant at Powys Castle or some such fancy-pants place), although I do have a mini greenhouse of which I'm quite proud (I put it together myself from an Ikea flatpack, and even varnished it to protect the dowling from the elements).


Cloches seem quite attractive in their simplicity and old-fashionedness. I also like cloches over food - they always manage to make cakes look even nicer, if that were at all possible. I've got a big blue wire cloche-type bit of kitchen paraphernalia to keep bluebottles and black cats at bay. It's quite successful, if a little cumbersome.


Cloche hats are another favourite of mine, being a big fan of 1920s style (I have a bob, don't I? Just because I don't dress the whole flapper hog every day makes me no less of a fan). I once went to a party as Coco Chanel and wore a cloche hat. Looked a treat, although I'm not sure Gabrielle accessorised with a can of Red Stripe.

The word "cloche" (pronounced closh) comes from the French for bell. More cloche definitions are available here.

Now we are one

Put up the bunting! Stick on your party hats! Get out your hooters! Today we're celebrating Words & Fixtures' first anniversary.

What a year it's been in our newly expanded world. Thanks to this new-fangled social media thingy, we've met loads of fab new people both in the blogosphere and in the real world, reconnected with old friends and colleagues, got involved in some really interesting online and offline projects, been paid hard cash and even won an award! None of it would have been possible without your support (well, it would, but I might have been less enthusiastic if it weren't for your involvement through inspiring emails and conspiring comments), and I hope you stick with my random ramblings based (albeit loosely) on language, literature, arts and culture. We will shortly be undergoing a modernisation project to mark this momentous occasion, so keep checking back, not only for more posts but also (eventually) for a new look. Thank you for reading - please continue - and don't forget to grab a delicious piece of imaginary birthday cake on your way out!

I'm the one and only aggregator

Last night, we had the second meeting of minds in the great Manchester Aggregator project. There were some of the original gang missing (they gave their apologies), and a few new faces instead. Well, perhaps not necessarily "new" on the social meeja scene, but new to the #managg round-table discussion. The table, it has to be said, wasn't so stable. If anyone has any furniture they'd like to donate to Mad Lab, BTW, speak to the Edge Street boys ('n' gal).

So the meeting, fuelled by a jolly nice banana-stroke-rum cake, kind of went one step back - but it also went two steps forward, and anyone in their right mind would say that's progress. We decided on a name, for starters, and it's cute and snappy and nothing at all to do with Christian Scientists, we promise. I mean, don't get me wrong, we're as diverse as hell, plus we love a good bit of science, but... One day we might even tell you what it is, the name, but in the meantime, let it be noted, for the record, that I said the word "lizard" first, but I'm too quiet and meek (he-he), and the one who shouts loudest shall the glory take.

We have lots of ideas. LOTS. There's a bunch of us get together, on average once a month, and some know pretty much all there is to know about platforms and coding and other bundles of joy. That's not me. I just nod sometimes. Me, I know about printing and blogging and writing and editing, but even then I'm not claiming to be some kind of expert, because things are changing all the time and it's dangerous, y'know?

Anyway, the basic concept is to have some kind of place where we bring together the best of the blogs in the rainy city - perhaps online, perhaps print, perhaps online and print. But definitely online. We're toying with the whys and the wherefores, but the whatnots are getting there. We have some homework to do (there's talk of a URL and a logo, and we're going to be doing some testing out of theories on Google Groups), then a third meeting to arrange, and then perhaps we'll be somewhere nearer to know what the hell it is we're trying to achieve. Then, and only then, we might be able to share...

(In the meantime, don't forget that furniture need. Oh, and if you fancy giving us some funding, we'd obviously be very grateful. Failing that, I suppose cake will do.)


*UPDATE* You can also check out my report (hah!) on last night's Manchester Aggregator meeting on the Social Media Manchester Ning: http://ning.it/77U16g
Please use the hashtag #managg in any Twitter correspondence.

Rumble in the jumble

They're very with it these days, you know, museums and art galleries. No longer are they the stuffy spaces of yore; all low lighting and subdued murmuring, shuffling visitors and stewards hiding in the shadows. No, nowadays it's all about chi-chi launch parties, and trendy workshops and lectures, and touchy-feely interactivity with the exhibits, and free cake with your cappuccino.

Perhaps it's because they need to keep up with all the trendy young things that have been busily getting in on the curating act; influential establishments like Tate Liverpool (getting on a bit now with its coming of age this year) and Tate Modern in London (established 2000) or upstarts like Hoxton's White Cube (est. 2000) or Manchester's Urbis (est. 2002). Or perhaps it's just the way things are as we prepare to enter the second decade of the 21st century. I mean, who'd've imagined high-street banks would ever pipe pop music into their banking halls, that bookshops would tout coffee and muffins, and that local libraries would host slam contests?

So in this context, perhaps it's not surprising that museums and galleries are big on the social media scene and looking to digital developments to extend their reach (promoting exhibitions through Twitter, for example), to increase participation and involvement (such as the Britain Loves Wikipedia museum exhibit picture hunt, launching 31 January at the V&A), and even to offer greater accessibility to collections.

At Social Media Cafe Manchester last Tuesday (yes, I know that's nearly a week ago, but you'll have to bear with me; I've been a bit busy!), Manchester City Galleries' web manager Martin Grimes (with the help of his glamorous assistant David Edmundson-Bird from MMU Business School) led a discussion called Crowdsourced Treasures, exploring the idea of using social media tools to open up access to the hidden exhibits that the public never gets to see. We learnt that only about nine per cent of the collection is on display, although, after many years of painstaking cataloguing by some very patient staff, you can at least now check out the online collections database where there are records for 175,000 objects.

Martin, however, was very keen to pique our interest in (and presumably get us blogging about) what has been dubbed The Mary Greg Project. Mary Greg was something of a hoarder, it seems, and kept pretty much everything that passed her way during the late 1800s and early 1900s, later donating it to the people of Manchester. There's already a dedicated blog, Mary Mary Quite Contrary, which delves into the drawers and boxes containing the weird and wonderful items in the collection and presents some gorgeously detailed close-ups (check out the Flickr feed for these).

I like the tab inviting you to "have a rummage". (What a great onomatopoeic word rummage is.) Take up the invite, anyway, and you're immersed in a bonkers world of bygones, bric-a-brac and bits'n'bobs. There are spent matches and birthday cake candles, scraps of letters and lists of nonsense, pieces of thread and herringbone-patterned thimbles, chatelaines and bodkins, more spoons than you could ever practically need and a thousand keys to a thousand doors that most likely don't exist now. The financial value might not be great, but you can't really put a price on that nice warm feeling nostalgia causes, and writing this post has given me more pleasure than I could ever have dreamed of, especially when I dismissed the seminar somewhat cynically last week.

Hey there, Babycakes

Forget cupcakes, kids; they're so last season. Right now in the good ole US of A, it's all about Tweet Sweets. At least for the pink-loving domestic goddess behind the fabulous all-frills Bakerella website, where there's "sweet inspiration and fun baking ideas" to help y'all keep the kitsch in kitchen.


They sure are cute, Bakerella baby, but blue icing?! Yowzers. Next stop: Mood Swing Central, know what I'm saying here?

(Pic and cakes by Bakerella, BTW. You can see how to make 'em at www.bakerella.com. I have no personal link to this all-American gal, in case you're wondering; I just kinda stumbled across her in a kinda Googley way and now I can't stop this darn accent thang.)

Great Western

Have been in the West Country for a few days, hence the
radio silence.
One day, I hiked a long long way to a really rubbish pub
(which, obviously, I didn't know before setting off).
Here, among others things (including greige leatherette
banquettes and a weekly canasta evening), there were
"Cornish cream teas avaliable".
A good example of writing it how you say it.
I bet they also use a "computier".

Half-baked idea?

I mentioned last week that one of my friends was soon to be embarrassing herself in our fair capital's Trafalgar Square. Well, she climbed aloft the fourth plinth on Sunday as part of One & Other (see http://www.oneandother.co.uk/), and your trusty reporter was there to witness the momentous occasion.
Nik's appearance happened to coincide with National Sponge Cake Day, so she decided to take baking as her theme and promptly spent much of the hour-long slot lobbing muffins into the audience, drawing quite a crowd in the process. The finale was to be a tribute to the artist behind the project, Antony Gormley, but unfortunately the Angel Cake Of The North never quite came to fruition.

Prior to the event, I was called upon for a possible loan of cake-baking paraphernalia as props, and this is the inventory I forwarded (I am a big fan of lists; more list action will follow on W&F some time in the future):

1 rolling pin
2 large glass mixing bowls, what you mix cake batter in
1 cake-baking tin with push-up bottom
1 fairy-cake/muffin-baking tin (I think)
1 loaf tin
a number of wooden spoons
a selection of white plastic pastry cutters (eg for scones/mince pies, bleurgh)
1 pastry brush, slightly manky
2 small cartons of fairy cake paper holder thingies
a number of birthday cake candles and holders
1 half-used packet birthday cake sparklers
1 cake tin, popular blue and white 1970s (Hornsea?) pattern
1 cake plate (one of those ones for fairy cakes, not a stand for sponges)
1 blue and white striped pinny (in need of a good wash)
plain and self-raising flour
caster sugar
yeast
baking powder
cooking chocolate
cocoa
2 eggs

Gateau fabulous

A propos cakes, I never used to see what all the fuss was about. Now, however, I'm something of a fan, although not in a "Must. Eat. Cake." kind of way. No, I'm not obsessive, but a nice piece of Victoria sponge, lemon drizzle or coffee and walnut like my nan used to put together with her eyes closed is such a civilised treat on a slumping afternoon stuck in an office with cranky air con. I can also divulge that cake-baking works wonders in the world of the freelancer and as a result I have become quite the master baker; call it chow bribes, if you will.

Nonetheless, there are limits to kuchen-munching, and being forcefed cake from half nine in the morning is probably one example. This cake line-crossing happened at the wedding in Romania I've just got back from and wasn't helped by the accompanying quaffing of local schnapps/moonshine/paintstripper known as Tuica ("tweeker") and spinning around on the dancefloor to Europop. Thankfully, I was fine, but my friend Mark, who was also there, looked frighteningly pallid and sweaty even before sundown. Wedding over, we were handed an envelope and a little box, not unlike a McDonald's Happy Meal but with marriage-related graphics. The envelope contained a photo of the newly betrothed couple and the box? More cake!

Anyway, here's a joke about cakes, which I came across yesterday. Strangely, it was put on Twitter by the National Trust press office, of all things/places/people.

What's the fastest cake in the world?
Scone. (... s'gone)

Ha!

And here's aother cake-related item:
My mate Nikki has been accepted to stand on the empty plinth in Trafalgar Square on 23 August to provide a visual portrait of Britain. As her five minutes (well, one hour, actually) of fame happens to coincide with National Sponge Cake Day, La Nik will be rustling up some culinary delights, making like the domestic goddess she so isn't. I'm hoping to get some visual evidence of her "creations"...