Showing posts with label Happy birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Happy birthday. Show all posts

Thursday, 28 November 2013

Walnut and Coffee Cake

bookandacuppa, book and a cuppa, book & a cuppa, home baking, Nigel Lawson, Birthday, Coffee and Walnut Cake, pictures, treat, fat, naughty, butter icing, espresso, failed attempt, delicious

I don't really like coffee, but it's not my birthday and this was what was requested. I followed this recipe here. It's a Nigella Lawson so of course it is completely gluttonous, which is ideal for a birthday cake. Unfortunately my attempt has sunk in the middle- a fact I've unsuccessful tried to hide with walnuts!

bookandacuppa, book and a cuppa, book & a cuppa, home baking, Nigel Lawson, Birthday, Coffee and Walnut Cake, pictures, treat, fat, naughty, butter icing, espresso, failed attempt, delicious
I think the dip  might be because I opened the oven at a critical stage
 I'm sure if it'll taste fine despite its looks, and even though I'm not a coffee fan, I'm sure I'll manage a slice or two.

Sunday, 30 June 2013

Happy 110th Belated Birthday George Orwell!

It was George Orwell's birthday on the 25th June, to celebrate street artist Front404 decorated surveillance cameras in Utrecht. This of course  witty reference to Orwell's most famous novel 1984, a dystopian fiction where the sinister government, Big Brother, constantly watches the public on the alert for 'thought crime'.  
Front404
Front404
 

Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Happy Birthday Bill!

Today is the birthday/deathday of William Shakespeare, the bane of English lit students. I'm sure most people have been forced to study him at some point. I used to be suspicious of people who actually claimed to like his work, as I thought they were just being pretentious, but I have to confess I have developed an appreciation for old Shaky.

 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red, than her lips red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.