Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Sticky Ending

Mournfully I regard the expanse of empty plate smeared with crumbs and icing. 

“The birthday cake’s nearly gone,” I observe to Carenza. 

It is one of the joys of twilit February to mark the moment when the twins come home from school with a cup of tea and a slice of birthday cake.  Since there are two cakes, this can go on for some time.

And it’s good for my health!  A slice of iced cake means I have indulged myself and have no need of chocolate, cheese or other culinary vices.  Or maybe it is the conversation.  Tea and cake dictates a proper break.  My fingers are too sticky to furtively tap at a keyboard – the moment demands my presence. 

Perran and Carenza are slogging through their last full term of school.  Carenza is tackling a newly introduced series of essay assignments; Perran is applying himself to the routine of debate with the same old faces.  It must feel like being in one of those revolving drums full of grit which is designed to polish semi-precious pebbles to a high sheen. 

Cake applies a balm to their tired souls.

“You could make another one, Mum,” says Carenza.

Such wisdom in one so young!