Oh cupcake, dear cupcake
I love you, divine
I love you so much I wish you were mine
It may not be entirely appropriate and seemly to still eat cupcakes at 45 years old but my fondest birthday memories are associated with cupcakes.
Making them, sucking in the smell of them as they bake, eating them without icing, twisting myself in knots, pacing, jumping on the spot, waiting for them to cool down so they could be eaten with icing.
Chocolate, butterfly, cinnamon and coffee, brandy butter cream.
Ginger lemon, coconut, triple chocolate, vanilla dream.
Apple-oat, banana, peanut butter, orange delight
Oh, I could eat the humble cupcake long into the night.
If Marie Antoinette had said: Let them eat cupcakes, the people of Paris might not have stormed the Bastille.
I ate three tiny parcels of cakey goodness today in a cafe and no one blinked. They didn’t think it odd that a grown woman should be munching on a small cake baked in a cup-shaped container.
They must have known it was my birthday.