There’s No Business Like Showbusiness (Part One)

As usual we awoke on the morning of the village show, to torrential downpours and thunderstorms. As mum was putting the final touches to her cakes, we were forbidden access to the kitchen so she thrust a cereal bar in my hand and hissed “make yourself useful” as she brushed past me. Try mustering the enthusiasm for that when you’ve only had a stick of muesli for breakfast! Dad had been down at the allotment since dawn with the dynamic duo that is Sid & Ernie.

I soon discovered that “making myself useful” was actually another term for “humping and lumping” boxes into the car and transporting them to one of the marquees in the showground. My youngest niece is a tad accident prone or a bit of a Cack-handed Carrie as my old Grandma would have said; so in the interest of my mother’s sanity, was forbidden from carrying anything remotely fragile but was allowed to ride shotgun with me in the car.

Enroute to the showground I got a text from the Three Allotment Stooges asking me to call in at the shed on my way. As I pulled up my Dad and the dynamic duo were waiting by the gate with baskets and containers and before I could climb out, my Dad was loading them into the back of the car. Judging by the ruddy cheeks of the dynamic duo they had already been freely partaking in my Dad’s dandelion wine.

I reminded him to be careful as if he damaged my mother’s cakes in any way, he needed to be aware that down at the allotment no one could hear you scream. As he was making a pig’s ear of re-arranging all the boxes, Cack-handed Carrie jumped out to help him. Within minutes disaster struck and the bottom of one of the cake boxes collapsed emptying the yellow fondant iced contents onto the tarmac below. There was an audible gasp of horror from all of us as we knew the consequences for this misdemeanour would be severe. Trust me when I say that Hell hath no fury like a cake-maker wronged.

“We’re going to be for it now” my disconsolate Dad remarked

“No shit Sherlock, and anyway who’s the “we” kimosabe? You’re on your own Wreck It Ralph; I don’t want to live on Muesli Bars for the rest of my life”!

We scooped up the remnants of the yellow fondant iced cake back into the box whilst my Dad endeavoured to mould the fragments back into some shape; the result resembled something along the lines of a pile of pale lemon elephant dung. Ernie handed me a couple of my Dad’s dahlias and suggested that I cover the worst of the damage with them. I pointed out that emergency reconstructive surgery wouldn’t be able to conceal the mutilation.

As they slammed the boot of the car shut, they bade me farewell and shouted “break a leg” at me through the open window; which was exactly what my Dad was going to get when my mother caught up with him.

If you enjoyed Part One catch Part Two here 

cake 2

72 thoughts on “There’s No Business Like Showbusiness (Part One)

  1. Your cake-maker friend Shirley is definitely a keeper. What gorgeous cakes. Are your Mom’s on a par? Did she re-make the cake? We’re all waiting to find out what happened to your Dad, although I hear torture is illegal.


    • She is a very talented lady particularly after one of her husband’s magic glasses of wine! Dad is frequently in the dog house, I think that’s why he’s furnished the shed so well, he’s waiting for the day he is evicted for good


  2. funny story again!!! dad’s in trouble…yet again… those cakes are amazing, I have a post this coming Sunday about my birthday cake….. but your friend makes amazing ones TinkyTown! 🙂


  3. Some serious cakes .. here – and a serious story too *laughing. And some serious problems … coming up. Dandelion wine, must been done in China – because there they have some serious strange flower wines. *laughing.


  4. Dallas, I could listen to you tell stories all day long!! Your dad is a doll. He meant well. 🙂 I feel so sorry for your mom. I hope she will find the humor in it one day. … Shirley makes stunning cakes, but I’m pulling for your mom to win this year! 🙂


    • Maddie, how did I miss this one – not firing on all cylinders I think tiredness has a lot to do with it – oh the glamour of night shits! My mum who is an amazing cake maker extraordinaire is bemused with the rest of the family’s sense of humour


  5. “Pale lemon elephant dung” tarted up with dahlias, certainly does not sound very tempting. What a funny story, although I’m sure your mom wouldn’t find it in the least amusing. 😕 Gorgeous cakes.


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