This year for my birthday
I asked my daughter, Niamh,
to bake a birthday cake for me.
Niamh happily agreed to do this for me.
I went out.

Niamh enlisted her sister Aoife’s help.
Together, they Googled the Internet,
found a promising recipe by Mary Berry,
prepared the ingredients
and began to bake.

Later that evening an anxious Niamh
texted her daddy,
“Tell Mum the cake will make her
wanna shoot herself in the head”.

We returned a reassuring text,
only to receive one saying,
“the butter icing melted,
the cake’s a biscuit
and you don’t even wanna know
what happened the eggs!”

Further reassuring texts ensued
which merely elicited a response of,
“It’s a disaster. You WON’T wanna eat it,
believe me!”

I couldn’t wait to see this cake!

On our return the girls presented me
with my birthday cake,
covered with butter cream icing
and decorated with Smarties.
They challenged me to try it
and defied me to like it.

But the truth of the matter is
that I’m dying about my birthday cake.
Niamh and Aoife baked it specially for me.
My birthday cake is undeniably unique,
it’s quirky
and contains one special ingredient
that Mary Berry’s cake recipe omitted –
love.
In my opinion,
it’s the best birthday cake ever!

(c) Claire Murray