Common Sense Is Not A Flower That Grows In Every Garden

To be bluntly honest, SniffSnorters, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow much. I’ve had a hectic few days, partly self inflicted when I completely misunderstood when my next tattoo appointment was going to be. Cue 10:30 yesterday morning and I was picking up a Facebook message from my tattooer asking me if I would mind having my appointment moved to a later time that day. Up until then, I had actually thought that my appointment was a month away.
There was a mad scramble when the Chichester Observer photographer came yesterday to photograph us in front of the controversial painting on our shop’s external wall. I felt awkward being positioned in the centre of the photograph and was terribly overwhelmed by the number of customers and blog followers who had turned up for the shoot.
The local media interest arose initially from this blog post of mine, which in one day acquired almost 1000 hits. Personally, I think the whole thing has been blown out of proportion. The local newspaper’s interest was further piqued when we received an unannounced visit on Monday by the local Council’s Planning Enforcement Officer. He made the special visit on the basis of the one complaint his department had had about the painting and was there to warn us. Yes. No joke, that was the word he had used. Warn us. When we queried what exactly was he warning us about or even for, the officer was unable to provide any clarification and when pressed, he responded by saying that he would have to consult with his department for the details. We made a point about the hostility and the threat that a word like warn carries and that our art installation was a temporary one, hence not requiring Listed Building Consent. The paint used was water soluble acrylic and would in time wash off.
We also considered the wisdom in sending out officers to visits based on a singular complaint. Just how much does that cost in Tax Payers’ money? And the Planning Enforcement Department’s stance that the painting on our wall is of poor quality? The last time I looked, being an art critic wasn’t within the remit of the Council’s roles and responsibilities. How can a subjective opinion be used to justify a decision to enforce a Council action? Do we decide the worth of a piece of art based on the status of the artist or whichever organisation that endorses it? What makes one art form more valid than another?
But by and by, the point that I really would like to make is just what message is the Council sending out by having their officer enter the premises of a local business and use loaded words like warn? What about engaging with your residents and local business owners in a way that keeps the line of communication open and friendly? What happened to courtesy? Consider what being a public servant should really mean. The painting received, to date as I am aware, ONE complaint. That complainant has been served. I have been led to believe that the Planning Enforcement Department has to date received several emails which were positive about our painted wall. So who will be serving the opinions of these individuals? And the opinions of the 30 odd people who turned up for the photo shoot organised by the local paper? Since when was it alright for a Local Council to seek out to heed only the complaints that fits their agenda?

Some thirty people turned up for that photoshoot. Not necessarily because they love the painting, although I know some of them do. I know of a 3 year old freckled faced little girl who insists on visiting the painting every time she is at our shop. On the whole, they were there because they see the painting for exactly the bit of whimsy that we had intended it to be. A little injection of fun. A harmless quirk.

Common sense is definitely not a flower that grows in every garden. We live in a kingdom where mountains are made out of molehills and vivacity is suffocated by the bindweeds of pencil-pushing. Tomorrow this very subject will be featured in our local newspaper. Until then I choose to remain bemused.

Suspended Coffee Whipped & Baked’s Way

I suppose seeing that I haven’t posted for a long time, I really ought to update you on how the Whipped & Baked bakery is doing. To those new to this blog, sometime around four months ago, I, together with my husband a.k.a. Slaveboy refitted a shop and opened a bakery/coffee shop on little more than £5000. We didn’t want the constraints of a bank loan or the gamble of investing large sums of money into it so decided to be inventive. Seeing that I don’t plan to be posting about it just this very minute, you are very welcome to have a peek at the bakery here. While you’re there, consider liking the page, it’s our only form of advertising, apart from Twitter.

But let’s talk about marbles.

These marbles do a lot in the bakery. It initiates interest and intrigue, mostly spurred on by young children who probably have never seen traditional glass marbles that up close (they’re Slaveboy’s from when he was a little boy and the jar was from when the bakery was a family run sweet shop just after World War 2). They visualise random acts of kindness from our customers who pay a £1 to see two marbles put into the jar. They each represent a cup of coffee for the homeless of Chichester.

Just around a week before we were to open the bakery, a friend forwarded on Facebook a link on a scheme called suspended coffee. The gist of it is easily conveyed. It started in Naples, gained momentum in the States and Whipped & Baked was the first establishment in West Sussex, England to have adopted and adapted the scheme. Where it originated in Naples, customers who came in to a coffee shop would pay for an extra coffee which is then suspended for any homeless individual who might wander into the coffee shop in need of a hot beverage. Milk bottle caps used to represent the suspended coffee drinks and as long as there were milk bottle caps visible in a container on the counter, any homeless individual was able to come in and request for a coffee.

We contacted the local homeless charity, StonePillow about our plan to start the scheme and since then, we have received their endorsement. We avoided the complications of over-thinking the scenario – some people suggested that coffee wasn’t a great thing to be feeding homeless people who are potentially sub-optimally nourished, some people suggested that we might not want the likes of homeless people entering our establishment and deterring paying customers, some people suggested that if we wanted to give away free coffees, why not just do it, rather than make a show and tell of it.
We were quick to brush off all these as moot points. They might be sub-optimally nourished but let’s not go all First Class Woes on this and ponder upon whether they should be fed lentil soup instead – if you were homeless and potentially penniless and hungry, a coffee is far better than nothing.
And deterring paying customers by having homeless people come in getting their cup of paid for coffee (it’s not free when it’s been paid by someone)? Meh. We don’t want paying customers like that. That decision making didn’t require a rocket science degree.
And I will make a show and tell of it. I’ve met plenty of Chichester residents who would declare that this great city does not have a problem with homelessness. They were not so quick to retort when informed that the StonePillow day centre can sometimes see up to 50 homeless individuals come through their door in a day. We are comfortable with the concept of being charitable when it doesn’t really involve us engaging directly with the recipient of our charity. A bit like donating £5 a month to sponsor a chimpanzee or £7 to go towards installing a clean water standpipe for some village in Africa. It’s a clean, sterile and detached charitable act. The act is more about your feelgood factor than it actually is about the recipient of the donation. And this is where the suspended coffee scheme is different. It’s not fundraising, money is not being collected for the sake of collecting money which then gets pushed through channels where stakeholders and administrations decide where the money should go to, once the costs of admin, stationery, advertising etc have been recouped. Instead, this scheme is direct action. On a daily basis, in our bakery, marbles go into the jar donated by our customers and they come out of the jar as suspended coffees are claimed by homeless individuals.
The lads (I say lads because in general, they tend to be men although there are a few women regulars too) come in pretty much every day, between 7-15 of them and most of them are fond of coffee, and also hot chocolate. Almost all of them have sugar and more likely than not, it would be in excess of four teaspoons worth per drink. They’ve become quite chatty, they know us on first name basis and I know a few by name too. We talk about how the coffee machine works, organic food, cinder toffee making, tattoos and 99% of the time our paying customers don’t even know that they’re homeless. In fact, we have had people pass comments that we didn’t seem to be getting any uptake with the suspended coffee only to be very surprised when we pointed out to them that the last group of people who left the shop were all homeless.
The old fashioned assumption that this marginalised section of the society would be unruly/dirty/unkempt/different is still rife. Occasionally, a couple of the lads would turn up looking a bit worse for wear, but so would you if you were sleeping rough on damp ground during an unanticipated nighttime downpour.
The biggest wake up call for me, which felt like a slap in the face with a wet sock, and even more shocking because I thought I was being ever so sensitive and conscientious by doing this, was when one of the lads knocked on our door after we’re closed asking if their friend can still get a cup of coffee. Not because he was thirsty but because he was on medication and there was simply no water to be found anywhere in the town centre. The toilets were closed, and even if they were open, the water was not fit for drinking. There’s no standpipe for water accessible. The ironic thing is, we have shops on the High Street putting out bowls of water for thirsty dogs.
This scheme of ours have generated a lot of interest and I’m really pleased about this. I’ve been invited by the local radio station to talk about it, the local newspaper have written a feature about it and even a columnist have commended us for starting this scheme.
However, there is room for improvement. Other businesses could come on board, and adapt the scheme to make it work within their own business models. If you’re a sandwich shop, then the suspended coffee could be a basic sandwich. If you’re a fruitmonger, it could be a banana. The list is endless.
When I decided that we were doing this scheme, Slaveboy’s was sceptical but he went with it. Now, he is the biggest advocate. He educates the customers and their children who enquire about the marbles. He engages in a discussion about it with those who find it intellectually intriguing. He rationalises with the sceptics who are looking for the catch or how we are financially profiting from this which obviously we aren’t.
This scheme is not about coffee or charity. It’s about random acts of kindness. It’s about doing something which you know will directly benefit another person. There’s no free pens, or cute photos of fluffy animals or snapshots of dusky skinned little girls with dirt stained faces and oversized tee shirts but that cup of suspended coffee could make the difference between a homeless person making it through a cold winter night outdoors, not just for the warmth it gives, but the hope it represents.

As the dust settles

Well, SniffSnorters, all I seem to be doing at the moment is bake brownies. We are selling dozens of the stuff. I had this self indulgent idea that I would be rolling out a magnificent array of baked decadence that would showcase my skills but the reality is, Chichester just loves brownies. Especially cheesecake brownies.
Within a week of opening, we has people come in requesting the cheesecake brownies, even when there went any on display.
There are lots of things we have yet to catch up with. We still don’t have a till. Or an A board. Or a sign above the bakery. Apparently these would encourage business but seeing that we sold out of cakes by 2:30pm last Saturday, I’m not sure we are ready to deal with even more customers just yet.
There has been a lot of goodwill and enthusiasm from the general public. They seem to get our ‘local’ ethos and appreciate our quirky approach to running a business.
Today has been the first day we’ve had to juggle childcare for the youngest 3. Normally, when I wake up to go to the bakery, the little ones are still asleep and today I managed to fit in some baking until 10:15, which was when I needed to get back to take over the childcare from an older child.
The baking is intense, I’m still feeling my way around it and I’m yet to settle in a conclusive baking schedule.
If you’re interested in keeping more current with what I’m to, I have a Facebook page for Whipped & Baked here.
And you know what bugs me the most? Above the crazy amount of baking and the lack of sleep?
I had a vision that I would be über glamourous and wear my favourite PVC pencil skirt as my baking uniform but the reality is, most mornings, if I could roll into work in my pyjamas, I would.

2 weeks and a bit

This post is fuelled by the mantra something is better than nothing.

It’s been just over two weeks since the bakery first opened its door and we’ve been running to stand still. Despite all our convictions that things would start flow and build up to a steady momentum, we have found ourselves rushed off our feet and really testing the limits of our raw drive to want to make this work.

I’m not going to go into to much details tonight and I promise a more lengthy post during the weekend (hopefully) where I might talk about just how most of my baking time has been monopolised by making my cheesecake brownies which seem to be flying out of the bakery when just barely cool enough to cut.

There are a few things I’ve learnt.

Dishes. Bins. Floors. These things don’t get cleaned by themselves. You would have thought by now I’d got to grips with this notion.

I need an A board. I know this. You know this. My customers ALL know this and by golly, half of them have made sure that they know that I know this.

Over-frothed milk really does smell like dried egg whites. Not nice.

Open plan kitchens are great until you mistake the bicarbonate of soda for baking powder. Then your kitchen looks like a failed science lab lesson run by the substitute P.E. teacher. EVERYONE can see the mistakes you make.

On that note, I’ll share the second attempt of the failed baking endeavour above. It was all ok in the end.

Word of mouth is spreading about Whipped & Baked bakery and I have so much to share with you. I have ideas, musings and some if I could redo some bits moments to share with you but that will be coming at a later date.

Until then, do keep in touch via my Facebook page.

Sleep well.

28.02.13

We opened yesterday.

And I’m still alive.

The eve of the opening, we took delivery of a radiogram, a bass cabinet, several valves and other things. These items were in the front of the bakery some 10 hours before we were due to open.

But we overcame in. We were busy. Lots of lovely friends and family cake to visit and I’m sure I has this insipid grin on my face for most part of the day.

Will write in more details but here are some pictures.

Plus Seventeen Days (and we are almost there!)

Dinner update: Tonight’s dinner was a culinary delight. We had chicken kiev (not home made) with rice, and pretend peas as Izzy The Rockstar forgot to buy some when he went to do the shopping. I fear rickets might set in and I just simply will not be knowledgable enough to identify it.

The bakery is almost done. I’m not sure what lessons I have learnt from this experience but one thing I am sure, more money would have soothed the process beautifully. However, I could be philosophical and think that perhaps I would appreciate it more because we did most of the work ourselves and took the time to get the finer details to how we want them to be but flipping heck, it’s been really hard work and there is still more to come before we can open the doors officially.

I’m currently sitting in a pub, enjoying a glass of Coke and a packet of over salted crisps. I have my painting jeans on and I still have gloss paint in my hair. I’ve managed to get the personal wifi password from the bartender and I’m surrounded by younglings discussing £100 tracksuits. Slaveboy is sound engineering for the night’s Open Mic Night.

All this to distract myself from trying to figure out how to get the 7th Wonder (aged almost 3) to take her Ramones tee shirt off so I can wash it. It’s been many many many days.

Here goes some photos.

The children, plus Firstborn’s boyfriend carried the chest of drawers from our house, which is about 100 paces from the bakery. I wanted to do away from the pre-fabricated shop counter look and Slaveboy did well in acquiring furniture which he then upcycled into counters.

Here’s the Small Shouty One showing off the custom made knickers cushions that my friend, Lindy of Busy Fingers made. I think they look fab. 🙂

Excuse the yellow sponge on the floor. Firstborn was cleaning the floor with it and at the same time doing her ballet exercises. I’d only noticed it when I was editing the image.

We also started giving the big window a clean. I’m pleased to share that my legendary wax on wax off window cleaning moves were much appreciated by the passers-by.

I found a great use for all the business cards I collected from tattoo artists over the years. I’ve always wanted the bakery to draw its inspiration from the tattoo world but I was keen to showcase how much tattoo art has developed and evolved into a viable artform in its own right. To do away from the pre-conceived idea that tattoo art is substandard, crude and lacking depth.

I’ve finally arrived to a decision as to when I plan to open. I’ll share it with you all soon. Once the gloss paint dries. Until then, have a good night. I’m back to eavesdropping on a conversation between a group of early 20s who are declaring vehemently that Imagine was originally an Elton John’s song.

I despair.

Plus Two Weeks

To say I’m not exhausted would be a lie. I’ve been passing out on the sofa midday (if left alone for five minutes, been tetchy and then failing to properly sleep for another couple of hours after I’ve put myself to bed.

Most of the work at the bakery is almost done. I only have some freshly grouted tiles to clean in the kitchen and after that, it will be the mammoth undertaking of cleaning EVERYTHING. I’ve done this several times, and so have others. It lasts until one of us decides that we need to haul out something from the garage or from the cellar. Then the cleaning has to start all over again.

I won’t lie and say it’s been thoroughly enjoyable. It’s been bloody hard work and the weird thing is, I’m more weary than I am tired. The project, being so tightly budgeted, leaves very little room for error and at times, the first decision can’t be anything but the only decision, like it or not. So, we are having to really exercise our creative thinking and visualising and take huge leaps of faith with a lot of the decisions we have made.

But. And this the saving grace Mother of a big but, we have been extremely lucky. The Grade 2 listed building that is the bakery has not thrown us any troubles. Everything we have tried to do the building has appeared to welcome it. I know I know. It sounds hippie drippy.

We have one more day of Percy The Pirate tidying up the last bits of work needed doing and the building will be wholly ours to sort out. Much as I love Percy, it’s a bit like having a live-in maid when I was living with my Mother in Malaysia – you could never quite feel at home.

During the time spent sanding down doors and glossing skirting boards, I’ve been mentally listing what I would do differently if I had to do it all over again. Besides having triple the amount of budget of course. One of these days, when the dust settles (quite literally), I think I might write a post on that.

Until then, I’m pleased to announce that the vonSponge family is still going strong despite living on a diet of fluffy pancakes and maple syrup. We have an extremely tired Potato Bottom who’s still transitioning into life at the Performing Arts Schools. Mondays are a real killer for her – she’s there for 11 hours, the majority of those hours actually dancing. Lalla is caught up with regional level diving competition training and her Level 3 interview tomorrow for her Further Education course. Izzy The Rockstar is snowed under with essay writing, interview preparation for his Higher National Diploma course, his upcoming gig (plus his debut rehearsal with Slaveboy’s band) and slight panic about filling in University funding forms. Firstborn is reconsidering her decision about university and doggedly working at her photography. All this in the last one week while Zak Cool (aged 10) is now more often than not the oldest sibling around during the day time, the 7th Wonder leaving a trail of toy destruction around the house and her very own personal assault course designed to surprise us whenever we go down the stairs.

And The Small Shouty One is in love.

And his name is Adam.

And apparently he’s coming over Saturday for drinks and cake.

I don’t think his mother is aware of this but I doubt I’ll be finding an unchaperoned 6 year old at my doorstep very soon.

Here are some photos. In no discerning order.

Plus Two Days

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

Quick one, SniffSnorters. I’m sneaking in a post. The household is livelier than usual this morning as Potato Bottom is having two trial days doing full time at a Performing Arts school. We spent last night roasting whole chickens when we discovered we had nothing put in her packed lunch.

Today, will be a busy day. Percy The Pirate will be buffing the tiles and installing the surface for the coffee machine and sinks. He’ll be sorting out the plumbing and measuring up for the serving counters. The coffee machine is arriving and I’m meeting with the tea supplier. Even the elusive oven delivery might make an appearance by the end of tomorrow.

I had an almost glorious day yesterday. I managed to sneak out into town, if only to go to the bank to open a business bank account (a bit of bolting the door after the horse has flee or however the saying goes, I’m not English so English sayings come hard to me. I’ve also been sorting out an Orange PocketLandline account, a service which provides your business with a landline number with comparative call cost without you having to have a physical phone line connection.

As far as tiredness levels go, I’d say it’s about 11 on a scale of 10. I’ve stopped having coherent conversations with Slaveboy around five days ago and this is a perfect reason why complex plans like opening a bakery should not be drawn out on the back of an envelope because two months later, when tiredness hits you, the chances of you deciphering your etchings will be near on impossible.

Here are a couple of photos. One of Percy just as he finished the tiling (he hated it!) and another of an old 1933 Ordnance map of Chichester we found while clearing the bakery. I think we will be fra
Onwards and upwards, people. See you tomorrow 🙂

D Day (except it’s not)

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

We wanted to be opened by yesterday. Except I filled in the local Council’s food business registration a week later than intended which meant we legally could not open on the 1st of the month. Theoretically we should be opening on the 9th but somehow, I don’t think we will be ready by then. Instead we are having friends over to the bakery on the 9th for coffee taster session and aim to be open to the public on the 12th.

Saturday saw Slaveboy and I going over to Goring-by-Sea to pick up a purple sofa from a friend’s house. This sofa is well travelled, having been the set sofa for a New Orleans TV show and then travelling across the pond for a quaint but quirky life in Sussex. This friend is a fairly newly acquired one and sadly (for us) she is moving her family back to America, a move that she is very excited about. I do hope she doesn’t mind me mentioning her on here as I merely wanted to ponder upon how busy and hectic life gets with a family, home educating and raising teens that it’s taken the pick up of a sofa to make me realise that I have totally missed out on an opportunity to create a better friendship with her. So there we were, in the midst of her trying to organise her packing, exchanging a potted history of our lives and making plans to try harder to keep in touch.

Saturday also involved going to Ike-argh. It was stressful and that was before Slaveboy realised they weren’t serving meatballs on the cafe menu that day. Despite me having been organised with having product numbers listed down, it still didn’t stop us from getting very confused and fighting over whose will to live was lost first.

It was also Lalla’s invitational diving competition where she was up against 18 divers aged 14 to 18. Lalla mentioned that she just hoped that she wouldn’t place in the bottom 7 and that the chances of her gaining any medals were non-existent. Both Slaveboy and I got to the venue just in time for the start of her category and it wasn’t long before Slaveboy was growling at the commentator for repeatedly pronouncing Lalla’s name wrong.

There’s something about watching diving competitions. Each dive lasts mere seconds and if you blink, you stand the chance of missing it. It had been a while since I last saw Lalla dive and I was astounded to watch her do a double somersault inward dive. She’s certainly progressed much further than I had realised.

The wait for the results was tedious. We knew she had done reasonably well but we weren’t sure. Lalla had to be stopped by her coach from leaving straight after her last dive because she initially thought she’d done badly. It was only when she realised that they were about to announce the top 10 divers and her name had yet to be called that she perked up. Lalla placed 2nd with 3 points between her and the Gold medalist and her third dive was the highest scoring in her category.

Personally, I spent much of that competition, laying on the guilt on myself for having been so distracted by the bakery that I knew Lalla hadn’t quite received the support she could have needed. There’s a lot to be said about young adults who are so inwardly focused that the drive doesn’t need to rallied from others, it’s actually become ingrained.

But anyway, here are some photos. It’s late and I’m too tired to label them.

Three Days…. But who’s counting?

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

We all have stinking colds. The builder. Firstborn. Slaveboy. Yours truly. The house has truly fallen apart, laundry unwashed and sproglets have had to live on a diet of waffles, slow cooked brisket and aerated cream (not at the same time, I hasten to add).

Most days, I don’t even get to say five words to Slaveboy without it involving him telling me that we are x many tiles away from finishing or me telling him we are x many ££££ short. I also spent some time considering marital courting via text messages to keep the marriage fresh and keen.

There’s been more tiling. Finalising logo. Fantasising about wallpaper. Having the wooden floor sanded and varnished.

These guys did a sterling job.

The wooden floor had never seen the light of day at all.

Between the sproglets who’ve stepped up to the challenge and kept the home fire burning (literally) and regular refreshment at our local pub, The Park Tavern, we’ve been kept quite sane and pretty motivated.

We’ve picked up some snazzy low tables from the local drum shop.

These are going to look perfect with the purple sofa we are picking up this weekend.

I found the typo slightly amusing.

So this weekend, both Slaveboy and I will be off to Southampton’s Ikea where there would be a race to see who would lose the will to live first thus more deserving of the hotdog and at the same time we will be catching 15 year old Lalla compete in her diving completion.

Hopefully next week will see the oven delivery, the kitchen tiled and the counters built.

Yes, I do believe in fairies.

And so should you.

O.M.G. Ten Days!!!!!

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

And breathe!!!
Realistically, we have a week on top of that as I was a week behind registering the business with the local Council.

Last week has been crazily, stupidly busy. We were at the Brighton Tattoo Convention during the weekend and I singlehandedly baked 408 cupcakes, 200 squares of various flavoured brownies and made gum drops, cotton candy marshmallows, vanilla fudge and butterscotch peanut butter squares.

And we sold out of them all by 3pm Sunday.

I has grand plans to take photos but we were so rushed off our feet and I also had a sneaky tattoo on Sunday.

The bakery is coming along leaps and bounds now. Tiling is halfway done and last night, we had the flooring laid. Today, the electrician is coming in to install additional lights and the Monday, we are having the wooden flooring sanded and varnished.

I’ve ordered the ovens, we have finalised the final design of the counters and wooden crates have been bought for the bread display.

So, excuse me for just trying to get this post out but if I don’t get this done now, who knows when you’ll hear from me next.

Seventeen Days (and it’s Valentine’s)

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

Both Slaveboy and I had lasagne and cheese topped roasted potatoes at our local pub, Park Tavern last night. Had we our wits about us then, we could have pretended it was our Valentine’s meal out but Slaveboy was covered in dust and I with icing sugar and neither one of us could actually string two words together to make a coherent sentence. That was how tired we were.

Our vinyl flooring did indeed arrive yesterday but only for us to discover after the truck had left, that the roll was damaged.

Cue me emailing the company photos of the damage last night and thankfully, they called this morning to say they’re sending a replacement roll for Monday.

The mammoth job of baking for this weekend’s Brighton Tattoo Convention starts today. I have 432 cupcakes to bake but first I’m sorting out the frostings and decorations.

So far I’ve spilled oil on the draining board. Almost took Slaveboy’s eye out by accidentally opening a kitchen cupboard in his face. And undercooked the chicken curry. I believe I actually spoke a whole sentence in the correct sentence structure to one child today.

Tomorrow I’m off to set up my cupcake stand at the Hilton Metropole for the Brighton Tattoo Convention. Percy the Pirate, our builder will be commencing with the tiling tomorrow. I might have told you this already but the start of this post feels like a very long time ago.

Eighteen Days

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

I’ve just missed a phone call from a blocked number. All day we’ve been waiting for a delivery arriving in a rather large truck and what with the debacle of the closed road, we’re quite anxious about making sure the delivery does actually get here.

Our very own builder, Percy the Pirate has been over sorting out just how many tiles we need to order for the preparation area of the bakery. The floor at the bakery is drying well but it’s still going to need another day before we can actually step on it.

Sometime next week, we are going to arrange for a friend of Slaveboy’s to come sand and varnish the wooden floor on the right hand side of the premises.

Things are beginning to look like they will be gathering momentum and I suspect by the end of next week, we will be seeing a vast difference to the place.

Meanwhile, I’ve been making gumdrops. It’s a sticky affair and I still have 3 more batches to cut. Thank God, I have my friend, Spiker helping me pass the time by facebooking me pictures of hideous work shoes. It affords me the chance to refine my sarcastic streak.

Nineteen Days (uh huh)

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made with al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

Let the chaos start!
It’s 3 days to the Brighton Tattoo Convention and Day One of my prep work for it. Today I’ve been making gum drops, fudge and cotton candy marshmallows – all for my stall at the convention. I’ve yet to alter the dress l’ll be wearing to the convention (it’s a halter neck and I can’t stand things around my neck) but no worries, at least I have my shoes sorted.

Yesterday was a day of doing the ingredients shopping for the convention. Slaveboy and I also had a quick look at the local 2nd hand furniture outlet and it was a good day for us as we found the furniture perfect for upcycling. We decided to creatively upcycle pre-loved furniture into counters for the bakery as I wanted to avoid the pre-fabricated off the catalogue look for the bakery. They’ll be delivered next Monday, ready for Percy our very talented joiner.

We’ve been busy getting the self levelling floor primer for the bakery done today. We did it ourselves purely to save cost as flooring is one component of the refit that the budget can’t quite extend to getting other people to do it.

I took a few photos. Apologies for the dull overcast photos, the weather has been grim in Chichester.

View from the front door

View from the kitchen

I even took a couple of photos of the outside of the bakery – the road closure and the view of the park opposite the bakery.

Twenty One Days

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made with al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

It’s been a miserable old day in Chichester today. It just rained and rained and our poorly heated house was struggling to keep warm. We were a couple of children down with both the Small Shouty One (6) and Potato Bottom (12) away at sleepovers.

Slaveboy and I spent yesterday morning in the company of our home edding circle being the only two drinking cocktails at 11 in the morning. Some attributed our act of debauchery to the fact that it was our wedding anniversary but to be honest, neither Slaveboy nor I are that particularly adverse to the idea of spending our loose change on cocktails at any time of the day.

Today was day that the electrician came to sort out the wiring at the bakery. After 40 odd years of having been various incarnations of a retail shop, the bakery has acquired a maze of wirings, some no longer in use. Slaveboy did try to explain to me just what exactly was being done and all I can remember is the mention of ring main and not much more.

My tattoo artist friend, Samo turned up with R, her girlfriend (and a beloved friend of mine) to have their first look at the bakery. I actually relish at the fact that so far, all the work that has been put into the bakery has been done by friends. Samo is currently working on the bakery’s logo. She’s made a conscious effort to steer away from the polished, digitised look and drew inspirations from my other passion – tattoos.

I can show a sneaky peek but you’ll have definitely wait a bit longer for the full picture.

Our builder friend, Percy the Pirate has been busy preparing the bakery for the mammoth undertaking of tiling the preparation area behind where the counters will be. Percy has been a long term friend of ours and pretty much an honorary uncle to both the Small Shouty One and the 7th Wonder.

Other than that, I’ve been busy preparing my shopping list for my stall at next weekend’s Brighton Tattoo Convention. So far the blocks of butter tally is at 37 and I’m at the 18kgs of sugar mark.

Twenty Three Days

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made with al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

It’s been a day of just playing catch up and paperwork. I know I’m a few minutes behind with this post. Today I’ve been arranging the Environmental Health visit for the bakery. Frantically filling in the local council’s food business registration form and handing it in by hand to the council’s office. Cross your fingers that the paperwork is up to scratch and we now have a provisional opening date in March. I was also trying to allay any mild panic arising due to the impending Brighton Tattoo convention, for which Whipped & Baked will be taking a cake stall to.
500 cupcakes of 12 varieties. 12 flavours of frosting. 16 trays of brownies. Plus others. I say others because I haven’t quite made up my mind yet what they are to be.

Slaveboy has been tied up with red tape, negotiating with the Council which has just put up signs that they are closing the road the bakery is in for the days that we are expecting large deliveries from various companies. It’s been an exercise of repeating oneself, severe persistence and a small dose sweet talking.

Tomorrow is our anniversary. Slaveboy and I will be married for 18 years. We’re both dog tired and just looking forward to sipping crappy coffee and eating dry croissant at the local coffee shop.

Night night, cake revellers.

Lost Count (Twenty Four Days)

In a nutshell: After several years of deliberating about it, I’m finally taking the plunge and opening a bakery in Chichester. The dream is to have a bakery which sells decadent cakes made with al ingredients, sourced as locally as possible. The perfect time finally came along when a shop premises that has been in our family for over three generations finally became available again. These posts will chronicle our process of getting the shop reading for opening, hopefully in less than forty days.

The only conclusion I’ve come to since my last post is that I LOVE smashing things up. I spent half of Monday smashing up floor tiles at the bakery with a hammer in preparation for the new flooring. These tiles must have been nearly forty years old and it was back breaking work made even more tedious by having to periodically sweep up the debris to see the areas that had been missed.

Work on the bakery is progressing well. It’s somewhat made more interesting with our builder’s parent taking ill and therefore him having to reshuffle his diary. Slaveboy has been very good at keeping very focused and dotting the is and crossing the ts. you know, small but important details like making sure we call the electrician in to sort out the rewiring so that we don’t blow a fuse every time we flip a switch.

At the moment every thing feels like it’s going slow, especially as I’ve very little to do with the nitty gritty of transforming the bakery. My job is at home, ordering supplies, transferring funds, feeding the 5000 and begrudgingly doing a little bit of creative writing in the form of projected profit & loss.

Oh, and counting grey hairs. I seem to be sprouting them lately. Much as this venture is for the benefit of the family, I’m still re-jigging the finer details of just how exactly we are going to reorganise home educating the sproglets around running a bakery. I’m still stuck on this point. Solutions on the back of a postcard, please.