Wednesday, 19 June 2013


So the day I decided to try losing a bit of weight in order to reign back the sudden appearance of my matronly bazoom, one of my students marched into school and presented me with two not insubstantial rock cakes that she had handcrafted herself and was very keen for me to sample.

Well, I couldn't refuse them, could I, because of the shiny-faced, keen and eager, expectant little face before me. So I accepted them, and they sat in front of me all day going, 'Eat know you want to.' 

I resisted. I took them home. They stared at me some more. I took them into the garden and casually shared one with Primrose and Daisy. Primrose and Daisy  appreciated it enormously and ate the lion's share. I had about three crumbs. I returned to the kitchen.

Inside, the second stared at me. 'Don't you dare feed me to the hens,' it said. 'Have you any idea how long it took that child to make me? If you feed me to the hens you will be guilty of a gross act of immorality. You HAVE to eat me.'

I made a cup of tea. And then I sat down and worked out how many calories I had eaten so far that day. And then I Googled, 'How many calories in a rock cake?' and spent half an hour being bamboozled by a myriad of diet websites offering various ideas about the energy value of rock cakes. I made an intelligent selection from the data offered. I ate the rock cake. It was good.

I had soup for dinner.


Countryside Tales said...

It's the Law of Sod. You reminded me of this limerick which I thought I'd share with you: There was a young girl from Devizes, whose boobs were different sizes. One was so small it was no boob at all, the other so large it won prizes ;-)

Denise said...

It is also the Law of Small Children Having an Innate Ability to Hone in on Your Weak Spots.

Thank you for the limerick. I have checked my matronly bazoom - I can confirm I am not from Devizes!! :-)