Bun in the Oven

I've made the Christmas cake and it's in the oven. I thought I'd given up such calorific indulgence a few years ago, but I was persuaded to reconsider. And so I flitted hither and thither gathering ingredients: who knew my new larder would be bereft of mixed spice, nutmeg, baking powder? I mixed the whole lot in, and it was then that I inadvertantly set the machine going before putting the lid down. Result? Splatterings of mixture all around the kitchen and on me. No wonder everything takes so long. I looked around for the two little girls to give it a stir for good luck. But where were they? Oh yes, like the larder's basic ingredients they had gone, all grown up and making their stamp on the world. Once upon a time I used to photograph them engaged in this time-honoured tradition, a wooden spoon covered in cake mixture rammed into their mouths, their eyes wide with pleasure. There was nothing for it but to do my own "lickies". Yum yum.

And now I have to see if the Rayburn is going to be on my side or not. I placed the cake in the bottom oven which is cooler than the main one, though I have no idea what temperature either of them reaches. Nine hours later it smells good, but I'm leaving it on all night on the advice of my friend Judy the Aga afficionado. Fingers crossed.