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But after work I had my restorative snack and we drove down to meet Jof. It's good being a kid, because I can swan to the front of the queue and get instant service, which in this case, was a bottle of Prosecco, several birthday cards in restrained pink and a large bunch of flowers with hairy stems. I did not feel in any way silly walking back to the car with this lot, honest.
But then was the culmination of a plan. You may not know this, but Jof is about to experience a pretty seismic birthday which isn't the one that gets you a Bus Pass, but you can go on SAGA holidays.
So we visited the Carl Christian Cake Emporium, where Bud had already paid. This cavern of high-end sugarcraft is near the beach and is full of trinkets, ribbons, dainty thingies, labels, edible baubles, silvery devices of unknown purpose, stands, books, large antique machinery of equally unknown purpose, and more fairies than you can shake a glittery wand at, both in front of and behind the counter.
Honestly, it's worth a tour just to see how the other half bakes. There was a giant post box. And a Rapunzel tower. The happy couple were well represented in numerous formats and in all colours of the marriage rainbow, there were trucks and dinosaurs and elephants and footballers and warships and basically you can pay to have anything you want on your cake, and eat it too.
Anyway, we got it home and Jof loved it, we had some after supper.
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