Baking for my baby

I'm now not just in a post holiday depression, but a post Wimbledon blue as well and I still have my cough. However, I've had to turn my mind to other things.

Today is No. 2 Son's birthday. He's 30! I can hardly believe he's that age... it's not that age bothers me at all, just that it only seems a moment ago he was a baby. And, as my mother keeps telling me, the youngest is always your baby. Poor guy!

Anyway, yesterday, to get myself out of my PHD and PWB I made the decision to bake a birthday cake. You have to bear in mind I haven't baked a cake pretty much since No. 2 Son left home to to to Drama College in Fife when he was 17. But I've kept all my baking stuff hidden in a cupboard for all those years.

I'm pleased to report that, with a touch of angst and flour all over the kitchen, I managed to bake this:

My first cake effort for 12 years!

Yes, it's a bit lopsided, but it's a cake and that's the main thing. And given that I really don't like chocolate, let alone cake, I think I did a great job to put up with the smell. Not only was it in my kitchen, but also in my car when I drove it up to Edinburgh today, along with a balloon to give him a surprise when he got home from work today.

I also dropped into his work... well really, what do you expect? Of course it's a mother's job to embarrass her children and I think I do that part of the job pretty well, if I say so myself!