Here’s something I ought to get off my chest.

Chris and Yvonne had their wedding reception in marqué on the front lawn at our home in Swindon. The tables were set out the day before and even the cake was out there. It was a fine, three tier edifice with elaborate lattice icing around the sides.

The following morning, there was a shriek from the tent. It transpired that ants had attacked the cake overnight in such numbers that it had turned black. I was given the task of removing them with a soft brush used for glazing pastry. Extracting the ants from the decorative lattice was a delicate and laborious business but I finally brushed out the last of the insects and set about re-erecting the cake. I found it wobbled a bit. There was a knife nearby which I stuck underneath the stand to steady it while I went to get something more suitable from the workshop. But I must have been waylaid and it slipped my mind.

It came back to me only when the bride and groom were about to cut the cake. I heard someone shout: “Where’s the knife?” Chris saved the day by drawing his sword which the two of them dramatically plunged into the cake To gasps of horror, it toppled over and, to my eternal discredit, I said not a word. Oddly, I was not suspected but it is high time I confessed.

Love Bill