All — Blogall — that Bob Jones

A relentlessly grey day

The weather forecaster doomcasting armageddon.

The answer?

CAKE.

And for old times’ sake, harking back to the dark days of lockdown, and realising that a couple of bananas in my fridge appear to have developed frostbite (no I don’t know how that happens either) I decided to make a Banana Cake.

Job done. Cake doing its thing in the oven as I write.

Needless to say that I made short work of licking out the bowl of cake mix residue before washing. A habit since childhood when I was given the honour of licking the bowl after cakes were made, stood on a chair, covered in flour from ‘helping.’ Happy days.

And apparently such childhood days which have gone, according to a little frivolous research online. Gone the same way as scrumping apples, and playing in mud, and cycling alone for miles along country lanes, and being left alone with a box of matches, and open coal fires, and eating dog food. Ok so, some things are best forgotten.

And not just for children. A cursory search throws up doom-laden reports, advice from doctors and internet not-doctors, and hear-sayers, saying DON’T LICK THE BOWL OR ELSE.

The ‘Else’ being a nasty case of food poisoning, not from the raw eggs in the mix, but actually from raw flour.

Now, it would be irresponsible for me to say ‘Tosh,’ to these reports. There will always be exceptions, and one should always weigh up the risk according to your own personal circumstances. But I can’t help noticing the frequency that the comments online start with the words ‘When I was little, my grandmother always let me lick the spoon, or the bowl but…’ But then go on to say that they won’t let their child do it, or they now regard it as a dangerous thing to do, or they’ve read some damning evidence somewhere.

We live in an anxious world, and licking the cake-bowl makes me feel less anxious.