Bad days and good…

Yesterday was a bad day. I don’t know why, but I awoke in a low mood which didn’t improve as the day progressed. I had forgotten to take my happy pills on Sunday, so maybe it was simply the lack of drugs!

But onto today. Today has been a good day. Today my friend, Anna, turned forty. I’ll say to you what I said to her, how the fuck can I have friends this old?! it would be okay if I was hanging around with older people, but Anna’s just one of many hitting the forties. And soon it will be my turn.

I feel old.

And fat. Which is almost as bad, as it’s not something I’ve had to think about since being a teenager. I know all the other mothers complain about weight issues endlessly, but it’s new to me, and bloody depressing. And depressing is not what I need.

I can’t figure it out. I’ve been able to eat what I like for years, and it used to be no sooner did I wish to lose weight, than I did. But no longer. Now, my jeans just get tighter and tighter.

Don’t think I’m expecting any sympathy. I’m not, doubly so as I’ve been in the minority not having to worry about weight before. But this is my place and I want to grumble. So I’ll grumble.

It’s not bloody fair. I don’t want to get old. And I don’t want to get fat.

Anyway, grumble over, onto happier things. Like birthdays. Except…celebrating age with a fattening cake seems a tad ironic now I stop to think about it…

AHHHHHHH!!!!! Around in circles I go!! What's new??!!

So I was talking about cakes. I really think I could start a business with these cakes. I know some of you have been saying it for a while, but as I’m an insecure (old, and fat) person, it really doesn’t matter what other people say, I have to believe it myself. And at last, I think I do.

I’m becoming almost quick now. The cakes themselves usually only take me a couple of hours. Of course taking a only couple of hours over something is hardly fun, as I might be insecure, but I also enjoy a challenge.

So last week I taught myself how to make two tier cakes,

and this week I decided to move on to making my own Scottish stud Highlander.

I made this cake for Anna. We like the same books, and more often than not, they have a Scottish hunk hero, called Jamie. The BH told me he thought the sword was wrong – that I’d given my hero a broadsword, but I assured him I know a claymore when I see one, and this one is definitely a claymore. When I told him how I know, he gave me a very bemused look! Anna knew it was a claymore too.

Goes to show even fluffy books have a purpose. Damn shame carrying a real claymore around is illegal, and why the hell aren’t kilts more in fashion?



I swear I would be in a good mood every day, if only…