Little Victories

My wonderful son turns 10 tomorrow. That means that this time ten years ago I thought I was in labour. I remember saying to my husband “Take me to hospital because this is starting to hurt”. The clue to how wrong I was, as any experienced midwife would point out to you was in the fact that I was still talking calmly and coherently. I was far from established labour and was still in the “strong wince” phase. But I’ll save a blow by blow account of my first introduction to serious pain and NHS drugs for another post. This one’s about cake. Continue reading


Bread of Heaven

One of the best things about eating tinned tomato soup when I was a child was ripping up the slice of soft doughy white bread that inevitably came with it and adding the pieces en-mass to the bowl. The resultant stodgy, doughy, tomatoey goo was, to my mind, heavenly. Imagine how happy I was to leaf through my River Cafe cookbook to find that those lovely Italians, masters of the tomato/carb combo, had invented a grown-up version of my childhood delight. Continue reading