Thursday 16 September 2010

Not to be

The big project, 
has come to naught.
It was a house.
Long awaited and much wanted,
not to be.
So I did what you do in the face of disappointment.
You bake a cake

and you reflect on the unintended bathos of its ingredients -
the grated beetroot that stains your hands blood red,
the seeds, sunflower and pumpkin,
which will never germinate,
the sour taste of lemon juice,
the costly nut oil,
the light molasses sugar of sweet anticipation,
the broken eggs which will never hatch
the opiate effect of black poppy seeds
to help to erase the memory,
the icing tears,

then you ask for clemency 
for this melodramatic post
and ask them to bear in mind
that you have also just received a parking ticket
wholly unjustly,
because of a faulty ticket machine,
whilst attempting to indulge in a little
 restorative retail therapy
and one of your jars of apple sauce 
exploded in the pantry.


  1. I'm passing you a "virtual" tissue...... "there, there!".....

  2. Oh, I'm so sorry --

  3. So that wouldn't have been what they call a good day then? Sorry about the house and the parking ticket - but the cake looks yummy...have you eaten it yet?

  4. The one that got away.
    We see tantalising glimpses of something that offers comfort, hope, distraction... then the vision dissolves into what might have been.

    Quite right to console yourself with the certainty of a cake. The light at the end of the tunnel is too often that of the on-coming train!

  5. Oh. You know I feel your pain; I can tell you that disappointment fades - eventually.

    meantime, you have earned the right to a little melodrama.

    Gin? More cake?

  6. Not fair, not fair, not fair. At least the cake looks good. Beetroot cake, eh? Is that the Nigel Slater one? Is it as good as it looks?

  7. Thank you all. And Sarah: Yes. Yes. No.