LAST weekend, I entered the realm of baby showers.
I never realised the delight nappies, baby throws and thermometers could deliver to an expectant mum.
The beautiful mum-to-be, a very dear friend of mine, is welcoming a little girl, her first-born, in the coming months.
And so pink was the colour of the moment, with my front garden transformed into the perfect location for a tea party.
I am not one to host parties, generally, and now I know why.
There was barely any room to sit down and enjoy a glass of champagne, and I was running around like a headless chook trying to ensure everything was au fait.
And in the heat of the moment, my baking skills were not paid due attention.
Just ask the poor sole person who sampled my lemon tart.
The lovely girl, who happens to also work in The Observer office, unknowingly cut a slice with excitement.
I wasn't watching for the following look on her face, but long after the party was finished and the dishes were done did I realise the tragedy that had befallen the poor lemon tart.
I had forgotten to bake the pastry.
Now, I don't claim to be a pastry chef by any means, but my understanding of baking dictates the missed step was pretty crucial.
It must have tasted absolutely awful.
Sorry Laura, by the way, I really am.
However, it didn't stop me from laughing.
In fact, as I write this column, I'm still wearing a massive grin on my face.
Please don't judge my future baked goods on this one, fairly fundamental error.
I swear my prospects as a housewife are still fairly promising.
But maybe I'm not host material when it comes to tea parties.
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