The cake has cooled and been turned out of its tin. I inverted it and gave it a good stabbing before adding a couple of tablespoons of dark rum.

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I clearly failed to slam the tin hard enough, as it has a dint in the bottom where there must have been an air pocket remaining. That’s something that has never happened to me before.

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The rum has soaked in now and the cake is double wrapped – first in greaseproof paper

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and then in foil.

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I shall feed it weekly, with rum – but only because that is what I have and there is no brandy handy.

And now I realise that I do not have a pantry and nowhere suitable to store my cake for the next month.

Published by Scattered Thinker

The Scattered Thinker is somewhat past her prime, but not yet in any danger of giving up. In the Inter-world, she is often known as plumbum, or sometimes as ulygan. In the Real Life, she goes by the name of Beth. Beth is a roamer. She lives in a motorhome and has a backup static caravan that serves as a bolthole if needed. Bricks and mortar are very much a thing of the past. Contact Beth if you would like to correspond with paper and pen.

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