YouWish

It’s probably fair to say that some of the most demanding people in our society are children.  And, while it may not be that way in fact, it does seem that the most demanding are toddlers, perhaps because they aren’t always capable of explaining or rationalising a wish: they just know that’s what they want.  This makes two days of the year particularly difficult: Christmas and birthdays.

Of the two, I’d have to say I find birthdays by far the harder to deal with.  For one thing, all the attention is focused on one person, plus their party that may or may not be on the same day.  

If you don’t have kids and think it’s sufficient to open a few bags of crisps, stick some Mr Kipling’s cupcakes out on a plate, buy a packet of ready-cooked cocktail sausages and quickly grab a pre-decorated cake from the supermarket… think again.

There are doubtless those who do manage things this way, but it’s not something I could do.  I pick the food from things I know Harvey will enjoy, then make it all from scratch bar the crisps.  But this is not because I’m some kind of martyr, sacrificing myself on the Annabel Karmel altar of childhood nutrition.  

There are two reasons I do it.  The first is that I have coeliac disease and making it all myself allows me to be sure everything is safe to eat and I don’t have to worry about cross-contamination following the innocent insertion of a breadstick into the guacamole.  The second is that cooking, for me, has always been about showing your love or friendship for people by preparing something they’ll really enjoy and giving the time and effort they deserve.

But the most important dish at a toddler birthday party is not the guacamole, nor the lovingly-moulded meatballs or carefully-marinaded ’sticky chicken’.  With my little boy, not even jelly and ice cream can distract him from the main event, which is the birthday cake.

This year, I asked Harvey what he wanted his cake to look like.  And then promptly panicked when he told me:  ”I want a Land Rover… PLEASE!”  And, since he’d asked nicely, I had no choice but to comply.  

It turns out a Land Rover is not just a box with wheels at each corner.  We have a battered old Land Rover Defender we modelled the cake on, and I have a petrolhead husband who would not have accepted me producing anything that didn’t at least pay lip service to the general styling elements intrinsic to such an iconic vehicle.  So much so, that while I was working out how to make something that might work, he was busy Googling to see if we could buy such a beast, or find a photo we could use to work out how they’d achieved the effect.

Funnily enough, there aren’t that many commercially-available Land Rover cakes on the market, so I was back to making my own despite the time constraints imposed by a big family funeral (which also involved me picking and rehearsing two songs to sing at the wake – argh!) which was taking place 3 days before Harvey’s birthday.  And while it is possible to have a picture printed onto the icing of a cake by at least 3 supermarkets near here, that would have a been a bit of a cop-out, and I’d have had to start worrying about the gluten thing again.

On Saturday I made the cake, an experimental lemon sponge I’d adapted from a traditional recipe.  And that evening I was about to start creating the basic shape when my husband intervened, wanting to know how I was going to cut it to create the right shape.  He insisted I couldn’t just cut it any old how and told me to get on with ‘marinading chicken or something’ while he went off and played with his CAD software and came up with a suitable cutting list.

After 2 hours, in which the chicken had indeed been set to marinade, the aubergines roasted for the baba ghanush and some cheese biscuits baked, I pottered off to see what stage the designs had reached, only to find hubby fast asleep in his chair in front of a complex 3D design for the cake.  In these circumstances, I did what any wife would do – I left him sleeping and got back on with cutting things the way I thought it might best work.

And so it was that we were able to have a cake covered with marzipan by the Sunday morning.  Hubby got active with the butter cream to provide additional shaping beneath the main icing layer then, as I proudly surveyed our joint handiwork and prepared to start the detailing, stopped me, aghast at the thought I’d forgotten to make plans for the ‘clamshell bonnet’ that is apparently vital to the vehicle’s identity, even in a confectionery Land Rover.

Land Rover Defender cake complete with iconic 'clamshell' bonnet

I left him to it, returning only when it was time to paint on the windows and attach the jelly tot lights and wondering whether he might have gone as far as making a cow catcher out of icing scraps, too, just for verisimilitude.

If you look at the picture I’ve attached to this post, you’ll see that the end result wasn’t bad.  Not perfect, by any means, but neither of us would pretend we’re expert cake decorators.  Yet it was enough for Harvey.   It looked like a Land Rover to him, and he was more excited about that than any of the many presents he received.

I won’t pretend fulfilling Harvey’s birthday wish was easy.  But it felt ever so good.  I don’t know what he’ll want for his birthday cake next year, but whatever it is I’m sure between us we’re up to the challenge.  I’m just glad that – for now at least – he’s still at an age where wishes can come true.

Every now and again, I like to get out and about into the blogosphere, possibly because I don’t often seem to get out and about myself.  And tonight I was glad to have done so.

I’ve happened across a few gems today, some of which I’ve shared in the Blogroll.  But I also came across one other site that appealed, too.  Believe it or not, it’s a blog related to work by a local Council in Surrey.

Farnham Council have decided to get proactive about the fact that they currently have more than 120 people on the waiting list for an allotment.  And while they couldn’t make more land available for allotments themselves, they did manage to solve the problem another way.

After all, Farnham, like other parts of the country, has a number of people who have decent-sized gardens but lack either the time or the inclination to cultivate them.  The solution to everyone’s problem?  A garden-share scheme.  Those who need land enter an agreement with those that have it to cultivate it for growing fruit and veg, in exchange – I believe – for a share in the crops.

It’s not a garden maintenance scheme, either, but designed to turn a given amount of space into an area for growing food locally and reducing the overall food miles of Farnham as a whole.  

So rare to see any branch of government, local or national, implementing such a gloriously simple solution to a problem, I just had to share.

Hi All

It has been a few days since my last post. Is it because of weight of work you ask? Or are you losing interest in blogging? Have you been on holiday? Did you forget the password or perhaps you accidentally reversed a Land Rover over your laptop.

Or is it perhaps, perchance  that the events at Westminster have rendered you speechless? That your fear of blowing your top means you have avoided the subject?  That you would explode with ire at the mention of the self serving MPs who clearly (perhaps) have broken no rules or laws but played the system to 10/10 degree in stuffing their fat faces, fabulous flats and fulsome finances at our expense.

Perhaps the very same self serving wankers who suggested that Sir Fred Goodwin give back his cash for adhering to the opportunities presented by his contract and the Government’s weakness , will now themselves dip into their pockets and  pay back the cash that “the system” allowed them to trouser.

Now we know why they tried to hard to stop publication in July and why this has been so damaging not least because since Parliament is sitting they cannot hide so easily. The downside is that their behaviour is so poor and so widespread that to boot out  everyone implicated would destroy Parliament so we shall have to make do with a few sacrificial lambs whilst the true villains - those whose flaccid lack of any imperative  to  control MP’s expenses was seen most recently in their  lack of city regulation that has so royally f**ked our economy, get away with it (until the next election)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Until next time (when I have calmed down – think of calmer things Nick).

       phew……..

Nick

…is apparently Paris Hilton.

No, I’m not kidding.  And nor apparently is her lawyer, who should have been held in contempt for such an obviously baseless description of his client.

So busy she’s never seen a mobile phone bill, and doesn’t know who does see her mobile bills.

So busy she can’t remember what she was doing two weeks ago and simply Googles herself to see where she was.  Even though she does little more than attend parties and go on holiday.

Personally, if asked to say who the single busiest person on the planet was, I’d probably come back with a not very original answer along the lines of one of the many heads of state battling with recession, war, poverty or selling climate change initiatives to big business.  Or possibly Her Majesty, who still has a fairly punishing schedule of engagements despite being well past retirement age.  And if I was feeling flippant I might even suggest Madonna’s adoption lawyer was a better candidate than Paris Hilton for this title.

And yet, there are times when I would pick someone relatively unknown.  My mother-in-law, for example, who is in her sixties and spends much of her life attending meetings in far-flung places as an advisor to UNESCO and whose work will have a far greater long-term impact on the world than Paris Hilton’s.  

Or a friend of mine who is a stay-at-home-mum of three kids aged 4-13, one of whom is profoundly autistic.  Her time is almost entirely taken up with delivering the kids to three different schools, sorting out the housework and planning wildly varying meals to accommodate the likes and dislikes of her family.  And giving her kids the attention they need outside of school in order to flourish – and they do.

Or people who run their own companies and who have the commitment to live and breathe that business, while still managing to find some space for family and friends.  

And sometimes – like many of us, I suspect – when I’m pushing up against a deadline while simultaneously trying to sort out my son’s tea, listen to what he’s been doing at pre-school and juggle a phone call with a couple of urgent email exchanges, it feels like the single busiest person on the planet is me.  It’s all a matter of perspective.

And there’s something I can do about it at least.  Rather than privately wishing I had a babysitter, or a personal menu planner and grocery shopper, or a PA to handle correspondence and phone calls so I can get on with doing the things I can’t delegate, I should probably get on and post these wishes on the site.

But right now there’s one overriding wish I have: I wish I was only as busy as Paris Hilton…