How did I become hooked on a programme about baking? The Great British Bake Off commanded my attention every week and woe betide anyone who dared to telephone during that special hour. I watched the contestants whip, stir, pound, and stretch their creations with single minded attention. The crazy thing is that the last cake I made was about 20 years ago and the Prince Charming was so heavy that he ended up with his head buried in the blue icing (supposed to be the sea but a rather sick looking cross between a muddy pond and a cloudy sky). Anyway, since then my constant battle with the scales has forbidden indulgences such as chocolate cakes and iced buns.
So I am making a plea; why not get the contestants to tackle some recipes for watchers of weight and the growing population who suffer from diseases such as diabetes, etc? It would give a different meaning to carrot cake and banana breads and orange muffins.
copyright D Mcllroy
His words. It’s all in the preparation, he told her. By the summit it would be like second nature.
Months of planning. Years of anticipation. All of their holiday allowance. All of their money.
In the early days she’d loved his ambition.
That was then.
It was all in the preparation.
She grins at her travel documents. Not long now. A beach holiday. Compliments of insurance.
Must remember to wipe the memory.
She puts on a pair of rubber gloves before she wraps the bottle. He only took one sun cream. Her own recipe.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com for organising the Friday Fictioneers. A group of writers having fun with photo prompts. Stop by and have a look.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/01/16/18-january-2013/ for her organisation of the Friday Fictioneers. Every week she posts a photo on her blog and writers from all over the world contribute a short piece of fiction (about 100 words). Come and have a look. Maybe you will get hooked just like I did.
copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The shop heaves contents onto the pavement and Rachel barely squeezes through the door. Slivers of light filter through the gaps in the teetering towers that guard the murky windows. Her hip glances the corner of a sideboard and she grabs a tarnished candlestick before it crashes to the floor.
A voice calls out from behind the wooden door at the rear.
‘With you in a minute.’
Rachel’s eyes flit around the room. Her search is over.
According to the morning paper, a customer found the man; at the back of his shop, felled by a blow to his head. Just rewards, some say as victims are encouraged to reclaim their stolen items.
He should have left Rachel’s grandfather at home in his frame.
THERE IS SOMETHING DELICIOUS ABOUT WRITING THE FIRST WORDS OF A STORY. YOU NEVER QUITE KNOW WHERE THEY’LL TAKE YOU. (Beatrix Potter)
Hi. I am glad that you are visiting my blog site. Some examples of my writing are here for you to enjoy including up to date short stories and flash fiction. Welcome to the bizarre, funny, sad, dark, romantic and other worlds created by my imagination.
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