So after a couple of hours constructing bomboniere yesterday evening, I wandered into the kitchen and noticed a cake box on the table.
But I should explain that it was my sisterâs henâs night a couple of evenings previous, and she was very, very ill, so between panadol and antibiotics, didnât drink much and probably didnât party hard (so I was told; itâs not like I was thereâ¦). Apparently she didnât eat much in the way of sweets.
So anyway, thereâs a cake on the table. Turns out her friend made it. For the henâs night. Nobody told me this, it became self-evident when I opened the box and, lo! and behold! â
Apparently itâs rocky road inside. (In the cake, I meanâ¦ oh, never mind!)