I cannot flirt. This is a fact.

It has come to my attention recently that a possible reason for my perpetual single-hood and decent towards a Bridget Jones lifestyle is probably my inability to flirt for love nor money. Put me near a half-attractive man and I automatically start to ooze awkwardness from every pore.

Now, as demonstrated by the two previous blog posts, I am a fan of a glass of wine or two. This post refers not to the hideous flirt monster I turn into after said wine, but to the ineptness of my sober, daytime man-pursuits. It’s all very well managing to talk to men and get a free drink in the pub, but these men are usually simply trying to get into your knickers, which  really isn't the goal at present.

Recently, there have been a couple of incidents where this complete lack of flirting finesse has resulted in me completely failing at life.

Exhibit A: Hot Bookshop Man.

There is a guy that works in Waterstones close to where I work who is really rather lovely to look at and seems to be rather interesting on the personality front at well. If I were a confident and forward individual, I would have snapped up his number and already gone on a lovely date with him. However, me being me, this has not yet happened (obvs). What has happened instead is that I have hung around the bookshop on a few lunch breaks like some creepy stalker, buying books that I don’t really need for a fee far exceeding what I could have spent on the same books on Amazon.

Last Friday was one such lunch break, during which I decided to buy a book by Dan Brown, called ‘The Lost Symbol’. I didn't need to buy it – I’m reading the Game of Thrones series which is really enough to be getting on with. I went to the till to buy said book, and in my haste and with my giant handbag, I sent the big orange comments box flying across the desk. I fumbled my apologies to Hot Bookshop Man and tried to look at him in a flirtatious way. I think I must have just looked like I had something wrong with me. He said ‘I wouldn't count on it not happening again’ (in relation to my ridiculous clumsiness) and on the way out of the bookshop, this is exactly what happened. The box, once again, got caught between my bag and god-knows-what and pretty much ended up on the floor. Miranda comes to mind. No number and hot romantic date for me. Well done Laura, you clearly have the ‘allure’.

Exhibit B – Hot Man on Train

A little while back, I boarded a train to Portsmouth. For some reason, the train was crazy busy and there were very few seats. This being the case, I ended up sitting next to someone, which I usually find really quite irritating as I like to spread out my stuff and make myself at home. However, on this occasion, I wasn't irritated at all. In fact, I was really rather happy with my lot. Sat next to me was Mr Fit. Tall, dark haired and athletic. What more could I have asked for? This would have been the perfect opportunity for me to get my flirt on, had I been anyone else but me. What I did instead was spend the entire journey with my headphones in, every so often admiring him out of the corner of my eye, all the while looking completely unapproachable. I updated my Facebook status proclaiming his attractiveness like a complete saddo, but didn't actually speak to the guy. Once again, no date for Laura.

In conclusion, what I think I need is an intervention. I need someone to get me out of the unfortunate habit of appearing deeply unattractive around very attractive men. I need someone to help me regain what I think I may once have had, flirt-skill wise, in the past and have now completely lost. I need Gok Wan to give me a swift slap to snap me out of it before I die alone and am eaten by Alsatians. 

Help!

(Apologies for the lack pictures in this post - would have been even more stalker/weirdo of me to take pictures in these situations!)

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Dodgy Nando's, a Caterpillar Birthday Cake and Ring In a Boot.

Last weekend, my good friend Jodi Marsh (no, not that one) turned 22. This being the case, some of my favourite ladies (and gent) and I took a pilgrimage to Bristol to help her celebrate via a shopping trip to Cabot Circus and a rather sophisticated cheese and wine evening (check us out!). This was the extent of the plan.

Upon arriving at Cabot after a mostly uneventful journey to Bristol, we drove around and around and around the car park, which had lied and told us that it, in fact, had spaces for us. Eventually, we snuck in a space and went forth to shop. We stood around for a bit in an indecisive manner, pondering about where to go for lunch. After much deliberation, we decided that trusty Nandos was the answer. I was in agreement with this, as I felt that it was about time that I ended my boycott of Nando’s, which had started due to an unfortunate incident where I swore at the manager of the Portsmouth branch after he wouldn’t give me a job. My bad.

Now, bearing in mind that Nando’s has a chicken on its sign and is famed for basically only selling chicken, it baffled me to discover that it also sold steak. Who knew, right? My friend Jess (aka The Flavor Hater) decided that a steak sandwich was the right way forward. However, upon biting into it, she realized that it was entirely the wrong way forward. Made mostly of gristle and fat and resembling the sole of a shoe, it meant that Jess, usually a picture of manners and decorum, ended up wrestling to try and take a bite out of what was essentially a piece of bicycle tire.

You’ve got to hand it to Nandos though I suppose, they have never claimed to be experts at cooking anything else beyond chicken and they did give Jess a full refund without question. Perhaps they knew that cooking steak was beyond their capabilities and they were just giving it a butchers (paha). I had no such problems as I decided to play to Nandos strength and went for a quarter chicken.

Following this hearty (or not in Jess’s case) meal, we descended on the shops. Bearing in mind that I am going on holiday twice in July (once again – check me out!), I have rather a lot to buy before then. However, despite the shopping trip being fruitful for everybody else, I left empty handed, which is always fairly depressing.

We arrived back to Jodi’s house at around half past 7(!) after popping to the shops to stock up on wine. As per usual, Jess and I chose our wine purely for for classy, grown up reasons such as vintage, grape variety etc etc… who I am kidding. We chose it for two reasons only – the fact that it was half price and that it had a comical description – after all, we decided, who doesn’t love a bit of ‘length and texture’!?

To add to the class and maturity, Jodi’s fiance Luke brought out her birthday cake, which was the classic Caterpillar cake, complete with smarties face and chocolate coating – the ultimate in childhood nostalgia.

We then indulged in some very healthy(ish) cheese and crackers from the mountain of cheese provided by Jodi. I’ve come to the conclusion that Jodi is a feeder and one of her aims in life is to fatten up her friends.

More wine was consumed and then disaster struck. Tears were shed and the entire room was pretty much dismantled. Whilst absent-mindedly fiddling with her engagement ring (that sounds a bit filth – sorry), it fell off of her finger and disappeared. Panic ensued. The sofa was lifted and bags were sifted through. After a good half an hour, we were baffled. Where could it possibly have gone? During this chaos, a perfectly inconspicuous looking boot had been sitting in the corner of the room. We had shaken it several time with no result. On about the tenth shake of the boot, as if by magic, there was the ring. Panic over. Unfortunately, having had a fair amount of alcohol by this point, I did not photograph the mysteries ring-swallowing boot. Sorry.

After this debacle, at around 1 am I had the inspired idea that we should go out. Like, clubbing. And apparently, I have a voice of authority because at half 1, we arrived at Oceana, having made a drunk effort to put on makeup (with this kind of effect) and wearing the same clothes I’d been in all day plus some borrowed boots.

Casual drummer/ saxophonist/ all round beb in Oceania.

We stumbled back in at 5.30am, turned the living room into one big cushion and got around 3 hours sleep. Shockingly enough, I was void of a hangover, partially thanks to a delightful fry-up courtesy of Luke. Nom nom, get in my belly, I exclaimed, and get in my belly it did.

At around 11, I ventured back to Devizes in a sleepy stupor before going to see the new Star Trek film, which I really enjoyed due to my inner Trekkie.  Gotta love a bit of Benedict Cumberbatch and Chris Pine of a Sunday evening.

Over all, in the grand scheme of things, I had an excellent weekend welcoming Jodi into the land of the old, where the teen years are all but a distant memory. I learnt much, including the fact that Nando’s should stick to their day job, that some boots have the ability to swallow items of jewellery and that on occasion, you will find a saxophone player rocking it out in Oceania in Bristol.

A successful outing, I feel.

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A Canal, a Cocktail and Iwan Thomas

Last Friday was the day at work from hell. Nothing had been done on time and no one was listening to me, even when I put my bossy boots and assertive hat on. My stress levels were through the roof and at one point, the thought of walking out of the office and just going home and going to bed was really very appealing. Monday was also fairly bleak. There was, however, a London trip-shaped gap in the tunnel, which promised to let in the light over the weekend, and it did not disappoint.

After consuming a well deserved cider on arrival home on Friday, I then got an early night in preparation for the weekend ahead. Rising at the crack of dawn, I drove to the train station in Pewsey, no thanks to my Sat Nav, who had apparently had a few too many the night before and had lost all sense of direction. After paying the extortionate parking fee of £9(!!!), I boarded the train. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred on the journey into London, except the inevitable disappointment when you realise that there is no refreshment trolley to purchase your standard coffee and four-stick Kit-Kat from. Mind you, it was probably for the best considering the weekend diet that of wine, pizza and Maccy Ds that followed.

Arriving at Paddington, I was met by the fab Jessica Bradley, who I had not seen in far too long, as per usual. We hopped on the underground and went forth to Maida Vale, where Jess lives at the moment. We dumped off my stuff, chilled for a bit and wandered down to Little Venice, a gorgeous area that looks as if it has been picked up from the countryside and dropped in the middle of London. It was a glorious Saturday afternoon and we took a stroll along the canal with the narrow boats and old barges. It was here that we stumbled across a confusing looking duck/ pigeon combo- only in London I swear.

We decided, after stopping off at Starbucks for lunch, to go in search of somewhere to have a cold glass of wine in the sunshine. We settled for a lovely bar/restaurant on a barge called ‘The Summerhouse’, which really was lovely. We stretched out on a wicker bench and had a much needed catch up.

Come half past five, it was time to head back to the flat and get ready to go out. After a nutritional stomach liner of pizza and wine, we got into our glad rags and put on our faces.

Pre-maturely aging

We then hopped onto the tube and headed for Be @ 1 in Soho, where we had some delicious cocktails called ‘Candy Pants’ with some of Jess’s friends. I then moved onto Prosecco and other variations of the wine genre. We then stumbled for what seemed like forever across Soho to The Loop, where we danced to disco until the wee hours. Jess and I ended up going to sleep at around 5.30.

I was then woken up at around 9am by Jess, who insisted that we had to get up and go to the marathon. I did so, all be it with a ginormous hangover, and we once again went to Starbucks for a hangover breaky.  We then went forth to the Marathon. Although we missed the athletes, we did make it on time to see the majority of the fun runners, including Susanna Reid, Sian Williams and Iwan Thomas. The atmosphere was amazing and it seemed as though half of London was out supporting the runners. I’m pretty sure that we were on camera at one point! We walked from the South Bank to the finish line on The Mall, cheering the runners as we went. 

I momentarily felt inspired, until I really thought about just how far a marathon is and how much monotonous training is involved and the fact that I’d have to cut out cake and then I changed my mind. Watching was good enough for me, although I have big respect for those that decide to do it!

One thing that I was a little miffed about was the lack of a Heather Small classic blasting out at the finish line, but I guess you can’t have everything.

Afterwards, realizing that our energy was flagging, we decided to go and get a snack, in my case a mars bar and a coke (FATTY) and then it was home time.

My fat fest ended with a Maccy Ds burger, which I had to eat like a massive spaz whilst standing on a train for an hour surrounded by screaming children and weary marathon runners. The journey didn’t improve as I got to Swindon station, where the replacement bus service to Pewsey had been replaced by a taxi service, so I spent the final half hour of my journey squashed up in a taxi with four other complete strangers.

Although the journey home was really quite uncomfortable , the weekend was so fab and just what I needed that it didn’t spoil the buzz. What did that was arriving at work on Monday. It had to happen at some point I suppose.

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On Carrot Cake and Being Followed

The other day I got so excited, I think it was possible a little bit of wee came out. To many people, the event that occurred may be of minor significance, but not to me my friends, not to me.

It began with a cake (what a shock).

Last Friday I bought a beautiful baking book called ‘Stacie Bakes’ by Stacie Stewart (which can be purchased here). Stacie is the owner of the Beehive Bakery who has appeared on This Morning and more recently as a judge on the ITV program Food Glorious Food.

Flicking through the book and taking in the pretty vintage pictures and gorgeous-looking cakes and pastries, I had a dilemma – do I bake a Guinness cake in honor of St Patrick’s Day or do I bake the slightly less guilt-inducing Carrot and Meringue cake? On consulting the target market (by this I mean my family, who would not doubt be devouring the resulting creation), the carrot cake came out victorious.

Apart from the moment I genuinely considered paying my mum to grate the rest of the carrots so that my arms could recover, the recipe was fun to bake and the instructions were easy to follow. I especially enjoyed that part when I got the blow torch the meringue frosting (bit of a pyromaniac apparently!).

The resulting cake looked like this:

Looks delicious, no? Despite being a bit messy and falling apart when sliced (this may have been due to me not cutting up the walnuts enough), the cake was light and tasty. It was also relatively low in calories due to the inclusion of vegetable oil in place of butter.

Delighted with outcome, I decided to tweet the following, along with a picture of said cake:

What happened next made me squeal a little bit. SHE RETWEETED, REPLIED and THEN FOLLOWED ME!!!

Now I know that to most people, this occurrence wouldn't be nearly as exciting as it clearly was to me, but the fact that I bought her book, baked her recipe and then kinda SPOKE to her about it and then she followed me strikes me as AMAZING. That and the fact that she is so damn cool, with her mod styling, beehive and love of Northern Soul. Eek. Safe to say I was happy about the way this Sunday afternoon of baking panned out.

I suggest that you all go out, buy the book and get baking. Just saying.

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Bonjour and a Bake Sale!

Hey there internet folks, welcome to my fledgling blog! This is a project that I have started and deleted and then started and deleted quite a few times and I’m hoping this time I will live up to my new year’s resolution and actually stick at it! I’m hoping to keep you posted on my life and baking mini adventures and I’m also hoping that you’ll enjoy reading about them! OK,  so here goes…

Seeing as baking is my passion and I’m pretty sure that I will bang on about it on more than occasion, it’s fitting, really, that my first post should involve cake, and lots of it.

When I was at university, I had the most excellent idea of holding a bake sale for charity in the foyer of the library. After all, I wanted to bake and my house mates had started to complain that I was making them fat. This combined with the knowledge that a hungry student doing coursework or studying for exams will want and need cake. With this in mind, I started to brainstorm what I was going to bake and roped in friends to help. And then a Dissertation-shaped bomb landed slap bang on top of me and didn’t budge for several months. What I needed was for someone else to hold a charity bake sale to feed my hungry brain… unfortunately, no one did so instead I ate share bags of sweets to myself and no money was raised.

About a month ago, once again faced with the dilemma of wanting to bake but, it being January, I had friends and family attempting to make it through the month without breaking their new-years diets, the idea of holding a bake sale at my office struck me. With Red Nose Day looming and Comic Relief being such a fantastic and worthy cause, I decided it was the ideal time to hold a cake sale.

I knew that employees of Capita in Trowbridge were an office of cake lovers, thanks to the almost daily emails entitled ‘It’s my birthday!’ followed by an invitation to come and go and help myself to some baked goodies. With this knowledge, I sent out a mass email requesting for help in the cake baking department- and was a little concerned when I only receive two or three emails back… I was going to have to do some hard-core baking.

It was the day before the sale. I’d spent £18.00 on ingredients and I had the afternoon off. It was go time. 4 different cakes to make, bake and decorate and around about 7 hours to do this in. First to make was lemon drizzle tray bake, courtesy of my mum’s battered Mary Berry Ultimate Cake Book, bought about 15 years before the Bake Off was even conceived. It’s a deliciously tangy cake, which I love because there’s no point in lemon cake if you can’t taste the lemon! For some unknown reason, I didn’t take a picture of this, so you’ll just have to use your imaginations I’m afraid.

To make this zesty cake for yourself, you will need:

225g (8oz) soft margarine (e.g. Stork)

225g(8oz) caster suger

275g (10oz) self raising flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

4 eggs

4 tablespoons milk

grated rind of 2 large lemons

For the icing

juice of 1 lemon

100g (4oz) granulated sugar

And here’s how you do it:

1) Pre-heat your oven to 160⁰C (fan oven)/Gas 4. Grease and line a 30×23 cm (12×9 in) roasting tin with greaseproof paper.

2) Measure all of the ingredients into a large bowl/ stand mixer and beat well/ on a medium speed for 2 minutes until the ingredients are well blended. Turn this mix into you lined tin.

3) Bake in your pre-heated oven for 34 – 40 minutes or until the cake begins to shrink from the sides of the tin and springs back when pressed in the middle.

4) Whilst the cake is in the oven, make the crunchy top. Measure the lemon juice and sugar and stir until blended. As soon as the cake comes out of the oven, spread the lemon and sugar mix on the top of the cake.

5) Cut into slices and enjoy!

Second on the agenda was a personal favourite creation of mine, banofee cupcakes! Based on a basic banana cupcake recipe, I have adapted them so that they have a gooey caramel centre, a swirl of toffee icing and a drizzle of chocolate on the top. I’m not going to lie to you, they’re rather scrum.

For these cupcakes, you will need:

175g (6oz) ripe bananas

125g (4oz) soft margerine

75g (3oz) caster sugar

1 tbsp milk

2 eggs

115g (8oz) plain flour

1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 can Coronation caramel

For the icing

140g (5oz) unsalted butter

280g (10oz) icing sugar

3 tbsp Coronation caramel

some chocolate (for drizzling)

some chocolate buttons

And… Go!

1) Pre-heat your oven to 160⁰C (fan oven)/ gas 4. Line a 12-hole muffin tray with pretty paper muffin cases.

2) Peel and mash the bananas and put in a large bowl or stand mixer and add the margarine, sugar, milk and eggs, and mix on a medium speed or until blended. Sift in the flour and the baking powder and beat until smooth.

3) Fill each muffin case up to 1 third full. Spoon in 1tsp of caramel onto the top and then fill with more mix until the cases are 2/3 full. Place in the pre-heated oven for about 20 minutes until golden and firm.

4) When cool enough, place the cakes on a wire rack and leave until cold.

5) Beat together using a hand or stand mixer the soft butter and icing sugar. Swirl the caramel into icing until you get a marbled effect.

6) Put the icing in a piping bag fitted with a large star nozzle. Swirl the icing onto the cake. Melt some milk chocolate and drizzle onto the cake. Put a button on each cake.

And voila! Eat at your leisure.

I also made Red Velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting using the famous Hummingbird Bakery recipe  (http://www.redonline.co.uk/food/recipes/hummingbird-bakery-s-red-velvet-cupcakes) and carrot cupcakes with orange cream cheese frosting, topped with homemade sugar paste carrots. For the carrot cakes, I used an excellent recipe from the Primrose Bakery (the recipe for which can be found at http://www.goodtoknow.co.uk/recipes/492570/carrot-cupcakes).

Despite my initial worries about having enough cake, I came in on the Friday to find that I was inundated with cake – from rocky roads to heart-shaped chocolate cake to chocolate traybake and peanut butter cookies. I was then concerned that we has too much cake- I needn’t have worried.

 To further improve matters, my friend Louise brought in the most fantastic monster cake resembling this year’s red noses, which we decided was far to special to simply cut up and sell. We raffled him off, discovering in the process that there are far more people working at Capita than first realized. Thanks to this, we almost doubled the amount raised!

In the end, I managed to raise a whopping £232.50 for Comic Relief, something that I’m really quite proud of! I know that the money will go on to make a difference to someone’s life, which makes all those hours of sweating it out (not literally) in the kitchen totally worth the effort.

There’s so many ways to raise money this year, be it holding a bake sale like mine, or partaking in the #twittermillion or simply donating! Go on- Do Something Funny For Money – you know you want to!

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