
So last Monday I ditched the Prime Minister for Hamish Blake.
Oops. I appeared to have dropped some names there. Let me pick them up.
Last Monday I was invited for Christmas drinky-poos with the Prime Minister. On the same day I made a wedding cake for Hamish Blake and Zoe Foster. {Oh the name-dropping, it has to stop!}.
I was going to attempt to do both – but about 15 minutes before the Christmas drinks were about to start I was up to my elbows in icing and butter and chocolate and peanuts and caramel.
I don’t make a habit of making wedding cakes {although I did make a gazillion cupcakes at my own wedding}. In fact the word ‘wedding’ alone makes me anxious. It’s been a year since I was a bridesmaid and I still haven’t recovered {being part of the wedding was lovely, being in the spotlight… notsomuch}. I do love to bake though. When I told Hubby that I was going to make the cake, he said: “You know how to make things taste good, but you’re not so good at making things look good. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Thanks for the support Hubby.
And because I like a challenge, I went through with it.
At the request of the loved-up couple it was to be Snickers in flavour. There was much experimenting and tasting and eating and tasting and baking. And it was a success:
The couple’s spokesman told Fairfax Media: “The event was a private ceremony attended only by immediate family and a handful of witnesses. They are extremely happy, thank everyone for their well wishes, and are now using a well earned honeymoon overseas to recover from all the cake they ate.”
So that’s the day I ditched the PM, for Zoe Foster, Hamish Blake and a bit of cake.
P.S. I just went down to the newsagent to grab a copy of the Woman’s Day {because the cake has it’s time in the spotlight in it} and I told my newsagent that I made the cake and you would have thought I’d just won an Oscar, “I’m going to tell everyone I know!” And he doesn’t lie. As I was leaving, with my magazine in tow, I could hear him telling {loudly} the people in the shop, with pride!
P.P.S. I’m sorry Ms. Prime Minister.





























