The Holy Grail

Been trying to contact some car dealer for the last few days, going to sell the car. Think I've found a home for the bike.

As some wise old person....or was it the television....said, you can always get another car, bike, house, tea set etc but you can't get back the day just gone. Mmmmm, try telling my Dad that though, I suspect he thinks I've now lost the plot and will be potless in a couple of months. Have faith, really, have faith, there is method in this seeming madness.

Oooo, I just have to share this with you. On a Friday morning there is a Country Market in Leatherhead. Well it really is the Womens Institute Meeting but for some reason they don't go by that name now, haven't asked why yet either. Anyway, picture the scene, elderly ladies and gents all queuing up outside the Parish Church Hall, armed with empty bags and handfuls of coins. Inside is Aladdins Cave, well it seems it as at 10.30am on the dot, a silver haired lady in a white coat majestically sweeps a door aside uttering 'open sesame', then the line surges forward as zimmer frames and walking sticks are jostled for best positions at the cake and flower stalls. Thinking about it I don't think she actually utters 'open sesame', mmm, it's more of an inference you understand......

Once inside politenes and respect for ones elders are set aside as one is caught up in the panic to reach The Holy Grail. For thousands of years men have fought wars and personal battles to seek out The Holy Grail. My friends, I, yes I, have discovered the very perfection and meaning of life itself.

The Holy Grail is........




.............any cake made by Mrs Kennedy of April Cottage. Her cakes are sublime, they are light, moist and melt in ones mouth. Perfection, truly. They sate all of ones senses with just one small taste. How is this possible? Who is this God, this idol that deserves total reverence?

I have such a wonderful vision of this truly blessed woman. She must indeed be a small, gentle white haired lady with a cottage kitchen that overlooks lush and fragrant bushes. Ooooh, yes, with a stable door and an ancient wall at the bottom of her garden.

I am sincerely agog at the talent and skills of Mrs Kennedy. She is a God, a woman of Rock Star status, an A list Hollywood star, a....oh you get the picture eh!

For the past few years I have, when occasion allowed, joined in the reverie at the Parish Church Hall. I have jostled and fought arthritic elbows to win my prizes. I have mostly succeeded in returning victorious with the spoils to placate the masses. (Well, my Team at Countryside who scoffed the chocolate and lemon sponges my 2pm then ran amok on the phones in the afternoon with promises of grand gestures to grumpy customers as they experienced wild sugar buzzes..)

Last Friday I took my dear Grandson with me to baptise him in the path of The Holy Grail....well actually if I'm honest I was also using his pushchair as my shield and sword...... The ladies there love him, billing and cooing. Gives me just the edge I need to surge forward for the Kennedy Cake before they know what's hit 'em. Having secured my purchase, feeling very happy with myself (smug, no never, far too ugly) and asked the lady at the Order's Desk if they would be doing anymore half sized cakes, by Mrs Kennedy naturally. I was struggling to keep the live Octopus in my arms (Grandson was feeling a tad tetchy and very lively) and was grateful when the lady beckoned me to sit him on the desk as we chatted. Wrestling with the octopus, sorry my Grandson, who had decided that lunging for the paperwork on the desk was far more interesting then sitting still as a statue (silly Nanna), I was trying so hard not to offend the kindly lady by being very, very clear that my cake just HAD to be a Kennedy Cake. They are very, very touchy the WI's you know........

She explained that it was probably possible to have a half size, that the half sizes available last week were not normal, that she'd made a mistake, but they had sold well......... Hang on a mo, SHE'D made a mistake, I thought as I flung the Grandson in his pushchair, strapping him tightly in as she spoke these immortal words:

'I am Mrs Kennedy actually..........'

OH MY GOD!

I almost fainted, this was she, I mean was her. This was her???? Oh good Lord. She was here in front of me now, what should I say? This woman had only ever made perfect cakes in her entire life......

I flustered and blustered, telling her what wonderful cakes she made. That I could only have her cakes. She was a heroine, my idol. Everyone felt the same, she was wonderful. How did she do it?

I could hear this babble come out of my mouth but seemed totally unable to stop. The Grandson even looked at me as if to say, 'for God's sake woman, enough already'.

Suddenly I stopped, relief swept over me, no doubt Mrs Kennedy and The Grandson as well........ I looked at her, my God, my idol. She wasn't a small white haired old lady after all. She seemed kindly enough, had dark grey hair and.....no, I don't want to know anymore. What if she doesn't have a stable door in her kitchen overlooking a herb garden. What if she has a toyboy lover and is into S&M?

I shall call in tomorrow for my half chocolate sponge cake and smile, knowing that at least my vision of April Cottage is still intact.

That's the thing about idols and pillars, it's a long way down and they topple so easily.............