The cake. It seems to be going all wrong. The first one turned out quite flat but still looks edible. And the second one is better but still too flat to be a proper cake. So I'm going to stack them up. Slice the belly of the taller one and stack up the three layers of lemon sponge. And hope that it isn't horrible.
The bread is laying on its side, cooling. The chicken soup kicks ass.
All this cooking is for tomorrow, when "Sophia's Soup Kitchen" shall reign again at work. Once a week I bring in a lunch big enough to feed at least a dozen people, and take donations for Walk The Walk. In June I'm walking 26 miles with thousands of other women through Edinburgh, overnight, in our bras. As well as being extremely silly, we are raising money for breast cancer reasearch.
I had set myself a target of raising about £200, and that's to so many wonderful people who are pitching in to lend me their support (including work folk who are brave enough to eat my food and then give me money), I shall have no trouble reaching my goal.
I've got a wee fundraising site if anyone would like to follow along:
http://www.justgiving.com/sophiawalking
Since it is late and I need to make lemon curd, I won't begin discussing the growing terror I am feeling about this daunting marathon. My brother put it into perspective for me a few months ago: "That's like walking from our old house, into town." Oh, crap.
Right. The curd. What a terrible word. Curd. Sounds like swearing. Oh, Curd.
A Funeral in Worsley
6 hours ago
1 comment:
Will you be posting reciepes? Good luck on your fundraising:)
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