"Oooh, now that's a nice cake, Mary" Hollywood tells Berry, seemingly taken by surprise as he takes a chunk of Frasier, the headline act of this weeks technical-bake in
TGBBO. You just sensed for a moment, a brief moment, his buttons had been pressed. He was a happy man, like he'd just been delivered the best chat-up line ever. Berry, silent, looked on, satisfied. It's good to recognise what ticks your boxes, presses your own buttons.
And when you experience those moments, acknowledge them for what they are. This morning was one of those moments for me. Not cake, regrettably, but a run out at Macclesfield Forest. An archetypal autumnal morning if ever there was one, blue skies, not a jot of wind and no one around. It was almost a solo run, a succession of knock-backs from the boys didn't deter me from a trip out, but a last minute reprieve had a good balance of girls and boys in the end. Not all human, mind!
The reservoirs were mist covered producing an almost low cloud filtering out the morning sun. As we got ready, echoing through the forest we could here guttural grunts and howls bouncing through the trees then out across the valley, sounds that made you stop what you were doing, look up, look at each other and ask WTF? Cows, we concluded. The run was great. The same as it always is up there.
Maybe like good food, if you
'know your onions' or like Hollywood, you understand the messages being delivered from your senses, this route, this area is more than just my 'favourite', but something to saviour, to acknowledge there and then. I love it up there. The icing on this cake is the 'Posh Nosh' van in the car park that comes over from Buxton. Teas, coffees, hot chocolate and chat with the owner about the glories of the morning.
'Did you hear the Stag?' he asked. Quite why we thought a noise like that would be cows, this high up in the hills, in the forest, miles from anywhere, without question or doubt raises the issue of me being able to make valid commentary on the great outdoors. We laughed on the way home, acknowledging our ignorance and wondering what he must have thought of us 'townies' from Cheshire. Paul Hollywood knows his cakes and understands what he tastes. Me...I just know what I like, and sometimes that's good enough.
