Every spare moment has seen me baking recently, and my freezer is full of cakes, large and small, for Saturday's Christmas Market for Parity for Disability. Having declined to participate in the fire walk, being a devout coward, I felt duty bound to prove myself useful as a trustee, and not just turn up for Board meetings. So, Saturday will find me in Princesmead, in Farnborough, trying to persuade the public that my offerings are edible and hoping desperately that mine won't get left over when sales end at 4.00pm. Quite apart from the humiliation, that would be particularly galling since I'm on a diet, so having the smell of baking permeating the house has been sheer torture.
Now I come to think about it, even selling cakes might be a challenge. Perhaps I'll volunteer for one of the other stalls, to keep me away from temptation. The tombola should be safe, shouldn't it?
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