I baked cup-cakes with sixteen eighteen year-olds today. I have never seen such a mess in the cookery room. Tiles redecorated with chocolate splodges, icing sugar stuck between crevices. But sixteen young girls left with a grin on their faces, supporting 20 or so iced wonders. Amazingly the kitchen was cleaned to sparking before they left. That was nice. Better than the inert 3rd year practicing her pasta bake for the first time before her cookery exam. I asked her to taste the tomato sauce to assess if it had enough herbs. She told me she would get sick if she tasted it.
P-L-E-A-S-E spare me from the fast-food generation.