It's that time of year again, when I'm madly preparing for the annual church Spring Fair. This year I'm helping on the Cake Stall as usual (remember the apron?), but also involved in making lollies for the Sweet Stall.
This is a bit of a conflict of interest, because traditionally these two stalls vie with each other for the stall that makes the most cold, hard cash. Fortunately the Plant Stall has been doing really well of recent years and has trumped both of us, so that I can't be called a traitor to the Cakes.
I got roped into the lollies because my Grandmother has always been the French Jellies maker. She turns 90 next year, so I offered to give her a hand (we've done a team effort before). As it turns out she had a bit of a turn on the weekend, and so it ended up being Mum and I, and everything has worked out well (both for Grandma and the jellies).
The other Lolly Ladies are also beginning to mature to a point where they groan about the week before the Fair, so a group of younger ladies had a tutorial earlier in the year to teach us how to do them to official quality control standards. I should mention that when I say younger, I mean that (apart from me) they were all reasonably recent retirees.
So I was asked what I wanted to make for the stall I offered to make a couple of trays of Caramel Fudge (because that's the one I really want to perfect - it's my favourite). It's only now in the making that I've realised that this is going to take much willpower on my part for there to be anything to give to the Lolly Ladies. I am, as it were, the proverbial fox set to guard the henhouse. And I consistently find myself eyeing off all the little caramel-coloured chickens.
The chances that I'm a dutiful Skinny Cow this week?
Over the post-end-of-year hump
2 days ago