My laptop has thrown a fit and my glorious blog post which I was hoping to wave under your nose on Sunday like a proud child with a Grade A report card is on it. It looks like I’ll be upgrading my machine a little sooner than I hoped.
Technology was not my friend over the weekend. On Saturday my kettle decided to spring a leak, but hey, it inspired me to clean the worktop. Clouds and silver linings and all that lark!
In the meantime, enjoy this brand new tiny tale. Today was the last writing class of the year at Yeading Library. I normally arrive in a flurry of chaos but I love attending them when I can. Jaspreet Bamra you rock!! Thank you so much for running them : )
Yasmin Selena x x x
Exercise: Build From Words
Write a piece using all of the words: Icing, Star, Limit, Grudge, Crane. Draw, Silk, Mischief, Grit
She was a glamorous girl, Linda Crane. She didn’t think anything of icing her cakes wearing her finest silk robe. Linda was a baker and the most eccentric girl in her village. Her house was the most colourful in the street and even though her neighbour Matthew held a grudge against her, for the way the smell of her joss-sticks filtered through the window, even he’d learned to grit his teeth and accept her wayward ways
Linda rose like a star when others went to bed and began mixing her cake-mix for the day ahead. She was a nocturnal girl, always had been. The village hadn’t known what to make of her when she set up shop in Snowy Dune and managed to get a permit, to revamp an old café, and turn it into a bakery.
There was nothing unusual about that but she’d then gone on to paint it hot pink.
‘What mischief is this?!’ Helen Holmes the vicar’s wife had grumbled, when she’d gone past pushing old Mrs Drew down the street in her wheelchair. Linda had winked and waved at the two women as they’d flounced by. She was used to ruffling feathers. She’d hummed as she’d worked, putting up dried flowers in the eaves of her store.
What people didn’t know was that Linda had gone to school in Snowy Dune many years ago, back when she’d been Linda Wood. Plain old Linda Wood before she’d gone on to marry a musician who she’d followed to Australia and then re-invented herself, as a bohemian baker, with her own secret recipe for happy cakes. But the marriage hadn’t worked out. So she’d come home. And on visiting her mother, bumped into her old Home Economics teacher, Mrs Parsley – who’d chided her:
‘Linda! You never knew or respected your limits even when you were a child!’
That had stung the girl and that very night she began to draw up a plan – and with her divorce alimony set up the bakery. The village had needed a kick up the bum. It was long over-due. She called the bakery ‘Happy Cakes’ and happy cakes they were. Despite everyone’s reservations the bakery was a success. The cakes were lovely, but oh so moreish, no one really wondered why…
Linda just smiled and plucked the cannabis leaves from her upstairs bedroom – night after night. And crumbled them in the mix. Happy Cakes : )
A little bit of happiness never hurt anyone…did it?