Moving On Up

Exciting times, after months, yes, literally months of having Valerie, my web designer chase me at odd hours of the day with her occasionally being across the pond and being up at silly time of the night just so that she can catch me on Facebook, my bakery’s website is finally live.

This is my last post from the WordPress platform itself as posts are being transferred to my website, where you will find past and future posts on a separate tab. Please do visit the website, change your bookmark and sign up to be kept abreast (oh how I chortle at that word).

You can find the new website here.

See you on the other side. I have a pretty amusing post to follow. Remember that Miss Tattoo Liverpool competition I was in the finals for? I never did tell you what the outcome was, did I?

Curiosity Is The Purest Form Of Insubordination

A quick one, SniffSnorters.

Following from the last post where we were awaiting the publication of the local newspaper on which we were front page for the whole street art storm in a teacup debacle, we were astounded to discover that we made front page.

We have yet to officially hear from the Council.

I have however been forwarded this clipping from the Chichester Society newsletter. It’s not available to the public yet. It intrigues me that the article hasn’t even a byline and let’s not even get into the inaccuracies of the reporting. Now remember, children, unless the artwork is endorsed by an official establishment and is under the umbrella of some well known project, then it simply isn’t allowed to be called art. Other than that, it’s just copying.

To reading about this today. My Twitter feed was alive with tweets from local Chichester tweet-people.

It’s elicited plenty of comments on my Whipped & Baked’s Facebook page. The reach so far is in excess of 2000.

And, on Twitter, @tnoac the people behind the Street Art Project have been making their views known on the matter.

I’d like to know who these critics are whose pressure the Council is succumbing to? What stakes do they have and how do their opinions matter more than others?

And does this mean if I gather enough critics of the now butchered Butter Market, the Council will revert it to what it was originally purposed for?

Stay curious, SniffSnorters, not judgmental.

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.

Whipped & Baked Needs You

CAKE REVELLERS: We need your help.

This blog post of mine had near 1000 hits the day it was published. Chichester Observer has been over to interview us about our views and just this morning, we had an unannounced visit from the Planning Officer telling us that he has had one complaint about our wall.

This is what we need:
Chichester Observer’s photographer is coming to photograph the wall on Tuesday morning. We would like to get a group of people to be present in this photo. If you’re local to Chichester, please come and support us if you can.

And if you can’t make the photoshoot at 11:45 this coming Tuesday and you actually think that perhaps the Council is better suited to direct its resources to more important matters at hand (like answering those long overdue Freedom of Information requests they have to by law answer within a time limit), you can let your views be known to the officer who visited us today.
Here is his email address.

Elockett at Chichester dot gov dot uk

Or you can just tell him that you love the painting. Maybe he would visit us again to pass on that message. I’d like to think he’s paid to serve the likers as well as the haters.

Disgruntled Of Chichester

The title of this post sums it up really. Unfortunately, there possibly won’t be any photos to accompany this post. Unless I find the ones I’m looking for and I convince myself that I’m not doing anything libellous.

Few things irk me more than it should. Car alarms going off every thirty seconds when it is actually parked outside my bakery and I have to listen to it for what feels like hours. Every single time, I have to stop myself from unleashing my mighty artistic skills with a bold Sharpie pen on their windscreen.
People sitting on the top of the backrest of park benches. Just why? How can that possibly be any more comfortable than sitting down properly?
People who drive big urban 4×4 fuel guzzling tanks when the only trip they do is from their town house to Waitrose.

I appreciate I am being somewhat excessive.

And then, there are the ones that justifiably piss me off. Let me paint you a picture, but before that some sort of background. A few months ago, Chichester rested its elbows on the dining table and somehow took a chill pill. The good council of Chichester allowed for the Chichester Street Art to happen.
Being a Conservative, traditional Cathedral City, it did not put up any protest against this public display of artistic expression. Artists from all over the would came into the city and with the permission of the landlords, installed works of arts on blank building walls. I thought it was amazing. The residents of Chichester that I have come across absolutely love it and the #Chichester Twitter feed was alive and buzzing about this event.

Being fortunate enough to own the building that the bakery is in, we granted Samo, a Petersfield based artist/tattooist to paint the brick wall on the side of the bakery’s building.

Here it is finished.

And here is a cool shot taken by Nadia Stephens Photography.

The response to it was immense. We had great feedback both on Twitter and also on Facebook, and in actual real life, people were coming over to see it in person.

Fast forward a few weeks, a gentleman on a bicycle complete with his trousers bicycle clips, walked into the bakery and without introducing himself, asked if we had given permission for the wall to the painted.

Yes.

Is it on of the official list of street art festival?

No.

Oh, said he.

I’m sorry. Just who are you and what is our interest in this?

Apparently he’s from conservation. Notice how I wasn’t even afforded the courtesy of a name or a full title of the organisation that he was representing. Apparently ‘they’ were concerned about the increased amount of street art that has been popping up recently.

And your issue with this particular painting?

Apparently it wasn’t very nice. The paint runs looked untidy. Oh yes, never mind that is the style of the artist. “I don’t like it”, he said.

Resisting the temptation to follow him home and tell him how I detested the way his garden grew, I politely informed him that it is a matter of opinion and that everyone else I’ve spoken to liked it.

He tried to ask me if I had sought the Council’s permission to put the painting up and looked rather crestfallen when I pointed out a fact that he obviously had already known – that just like the street art installations, no permission was needed from the council and that it only required the approval of the landlord.

It was when he asked when the painting was going to be taken down and me replying When it washes off that I think he realised that I was a lost cause and communication should cease promptly.

And I don’t understand this attitude. The need to preserve a great city exactly like its one dimensional postcard image. Stagnant, devoid of activity and a mere snapshot for passing visitors. The council grovelling for visitors to come visit and spend their money in the city and at the same in, driving its residents out of town to spend their money there. The same attitude that fuelled the bewildering Council decision to want to plough 70K into refitting a shop dedicated for local produces to be run by a local business which somehow will need to be able to pay the extortionate rent and business rates of in excess of 60K a year. You’re going to have to sell a hell of an amount of jams to make that amount.
And don’t even get me started on how they managed to massacre the Butter Market on North Street. That Council funded 70K could have gone a LONG way to rejuvenate the Butter Market and preserve its use for small independent shops.

How did this viewpoint:

We’re very aware that Chichester has seen a number of redevelopments in recent years, which have often left nothing more of the original buildings than a shell or exterior façade. That is not what we want for the Butter market.

And this:

We believe a more ethical and flexible approach to retail business is required; an approach that echoes the original purpose of the Butter Market in serving the needs of the consumers and producers of Chichester, rather than one which regards an historic building as simply an attractive shell for the ubiquitous modern retail mall.

And this:

Our vision is to see a return of the “toll” model originally used in the Butter Market. This will ensure that the consumer and producer are not used as a simple margin to be exploited in the retail environment. The toll model is a simple and fair way of bringing produce to market because charges to the producer are based on profits, which ensures that the producer retains a sustainable margin while the consumer pays a sustainable cost. In other words, producers benefit, consumers benefit, and Chichester benefits.

http://www.chichesterbuttermarket.co.uk/vision.php?menu=benefit#benefiting_chichester

Become this?

It is already recognised as a renowned retailing centre and there is now an opportunity to take retailing to a new level with the conversion of the historic Butter Market into a top end shopping experience.
Distinguished brands and luxury goods retailers will have an opportunity to connect with the inherent prosperity and wealth created by centuries of commerce in and around this flourishing Cathedral City.
The Butter Market aspires to become the benchmark in the retail environment for bespoke and distinctive retailers.
http://www.buttermarketchichester.co.uk/

So, we sit and watch historical buildings like this butchered. The Butter Market was apparently 200 years in the making and it was destroyed in an instance by greed. We hear of yet more independent shops closing down due to extortionate business rates, and yet, it appears to be the main bugbear of the Council is the growing number of A boards on the high street.

Seriously

Some people just need to get over themselves.

I have one proposition. The people who make decisions about the city centre will need to be actually living in the city centre.

Silent Sunday 04.08.13

Nadia Stephens Photography

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.

Silent Sunday 23.06.13

#SilentSunday #Chichester #beautifulpeople

Silent Sunday (16.06.13)

Nadia Stephens Photography

Whipped & Baked

For the Love of Tiara & Liverpool Tattoo Convention

It all is down to the fact that I am hankering after a tiara.

Not too long ago, my dear friend on Facebook managed to convince me that I needed to fly the flag of the older women and enter myself for the Miss Tattoo competition at the Liverpool Tattoo Convention. I was going to the convention anyway as I was booked to have the most epic tattoo by Katriona MacIntosh, who has been nominated Best Newcomer.

So, I entered myself. The selection process was pretty simple. You post up your chosen photo with a little blurb about yourself. The public can then vote and the ten with the most votes would go through to the next round. So here was my entry. I was somewhat hit by a onslaught of prosaic diarrhoea and wrote this lengthy blurb in some vain attempt to make myself feel more credible as a candidate.

My interest in tattoos spans over a period of almost 20 years, sparked initially when I spent a few years of my childhood in Borneo before it was subjected to inevitable modernisation. As a child I found the permanent skin etchings on the Dayaks and Ibans intriguing. Actual skin doodles that No mother could scrub off with soap and water!

Over the years, I have collected a substantial amount of tattoos, starting on skin not so publicly visible and moving on to areas which are difficult to cover up. I am quite heartened that I have yet to be publicly scorned for my tattoos and have never been discriminated against because of them.

I have had several career changes in my life, from being a teacher to working as a midwife for 7 years and now owning my own bakery. In between, I have paused momentarily (several times!) to have my children. All this while acquiring more and more ink and not allowing the perceived, yet questionable stigma of being a tattooed woman to hinder whichever path I choose to take.

My Japanese leg sleeves are by Darren Stares, they are still work in progress as is my Saira Hunjan backpiece. Other pieces by Nico of Softmachine, Emma Grech, DannyBoy of Inksmiths of London and Glenn Symonds. I have others planned and often chortle silently to myself when people appear bemused when I tell them that I am not done yet. Not close. I’d like to think that I represent that section of the society to whom getting tattooed is not a passing phase of the young and rebellious. Being tattooed to me is about filling in the blanks, owning the skin I am in and finding solace in the permanence of the ink.

In my spare time, I participate in roller derby and love to nurse the bruises and grazes I get from it. I will be at the Brighton Tattoo Convention this year with my Whipped & Baked tattoo inspired cupcake stall. Come and say hello to me.

And I don’t know if it were my wit or my ankles, I made it through to the next round. The next round was pretty much the same. People had to vote again, and despite the slightly tricky process of having to register and wait for a confirmation email, which invariably ended up in everyone’s spam filter, I actually made it through to the final 10.

So here is the bit that I didn’t quite consider the implications of. The final is at Liverpool Tattoo Convention. By a panel of judges. On a stage. In front of EVERYONE. And I’ll have to introduce myself and all, and actually avoid snorting into the microphone or giggling like the village idiot.

Whilst the are people who are congratulating me for my go get ’em approach to life, I am silently face palming myself. Since opening the bakery, my hair has been tucked up in a baking snood. It’s been weeks since I’ve worn high heels and what’s worse is, I literally have NO eyelashes left. I’ve somehow managed to dust my eyes with icing sugar every time I’m making icing and then caramelising my eyelashes when opening the door to a hot oven. Yum. Crunchy lashes.

So, I’m trying to remind myself that this isn’t a beauty contest. As I would never consider myself as befitting to enter a beauty contest. No one who is careless and carefree enough to accidentally shave their eyebrow when giving their hair an undercut is ever going to be beauty contest material.
And I intermittently remind myself, that as a heavily tattooed woman who has been collecting ink for over 20 years, I’ve pretty much shown that the very fact that I am tattooed has never hindered me from getting what I want, or doing what I want. The career progression from teacher to midwife to baker sets a great example of this. Even now, with the bakery, my ink is publicly visible and it doesn’t seem to bother anyone. Not outwardly at least. I’m being judged for the work I produce and by how I conduct myself with others – that should always be the case for everyone. And that is what this competition is all about, it’s about women who are inked who are being positive role models.

Rewinding to the fact that I hardly have any eyelashes anymore, to match my one non-existent eyebrow, you’ll be pleased to know that I have found ways of coping. It ain’t pretty and it’ll show me up as a somewhat vain individual but guys, eyelashes are important, they’re like windshields for your eyes. So I got myself eyelash extension.

Katrina, my beautician at Glorious Spa is now my new bestie. What a conjurer of miracle she is. Never mind that even she looked surprised when she told me that the fake lashes actually looked good on me. She can do no wrong in my (fluttery lashed) eyes.

I’m not sure if I’ll manage another post before I leave for Liverpool late on Friday. I’m making contingency plans. I’m the oldest by about 10 years at least and with more children than all of them put together, I suspect. There’s no way I’m going to win. So tomorrow, I am going to the toy shop and I’m buying myself a Barbie tiara.

Just watch me.

Flourvonsponge Goes To Her First Auction

It’s been a whirlwind of a few weeks. The thing is, I’ve probably started many a blog post with that statement but by heck, this time I’ve really earned it. However for now, let’s talk about the other things. The things which are not the bakery, or the baking or the cakes.

I went to my first auction. Apparently I went to a really good one. I was dispatched by Slaveboy with a list of furniture we were interested in along with a maximum bid price for each item. I arrived early, stood at the back and was pretty much frozen solid in time, for for that if I scratched my nose, or twiddled my thumbs, such act might be mistaken for a bid. Silly I know, and irrational considering there were people fiddling about, eating their sandwiches and reading the newspaper.

But stood I did. For a little less than three hours. I didn’t want to miss my lots, you see.

And I think I witnessed a momentous event. I saw this come up for bidding. I poo-pooed it as some small ugly brown vase with fancy handles. Akin to a sixth former’s attempt at pottery. I wouldn’t have given it house and the owner certainly didn’t think much of it either as the reserve price was placed at £100.

It sold for £66,000.

Sixty six thousand pounds.

At the time it went to press, the owner was still away and unreasonable, and he was going to come home to the news that his vase had sold for 66K.

I texted Slaveboy about the vase that sold for £66,000. He promptly texted back reminding me that I need not spend quite as much.

As if.

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.

Hey Ho, Let’s Go

The 7th Wonder was pretty made up yesterday and has been so for 24 hours or so. Whilst out shopping with The Small Shouty One, where we purchased froufrou skirts and Hello Kitty socks, Slaveboy found a Ramones tee shirt identical to the one which 7th Wonder had outgrown a year ago.

Firstborn, a.k.a. Barnerbread recognised a great photo opportunity and managed to get 7th Wonder to agree to a photo shoot – it normally doesn’t take much persuading really. She decided on the retro Care Bear herself and after several attempts to get her to smile, Firstborn just told her to be natural.

I think it’s an awesome photo, and I just wanted to share this with you. I’ve got stories to tell about the bakery and how close we are to opening, about Potato Bottom deciding to join a dance school and also about last night when some random woman in a pub asked me if I would take her to the toilets and show her ALL of my tattoos but for now, I think this photo deserves the spotlight.

She’s posted a couple of photos and they seem to have brought upon a certain level of nostalgia in various people because of the retro CareBear.