Modern Manners: Sophia Money-Coutts discusses royal wedding cakes, handwriting and the superiority of the Creme Egg
One can have one's cake and eat it, too
When I was working for Another Newspaper in 2011 just before Prince William and Kate got married, one of the editors had an idea. Why not commission a reporter to try to track down as many slices of Prince Charles and Diana’s wedding cake as they could? Who still had a slice? Why did they have it? What did it look like? Would it kill you if you ate it etc? A young reporter was duly set on the story and tried to track down as many mouldy bits of cake as possible.
There are many lovely things about a wedding. But the cake? Not that lovely when it’s a fruitcake so dense it could double as a murder weapon.
The young reporter wasn’t me. That’s not the point of this yarn. The point is, I didn’t know until then that the Royals sent crumbs of their cakes to certain members of the public as mementoes when they got married. And I didn’t know that people kept these slices of cake. I was gobsmacked. Saving a bit of cake from 30 years ago? I can’t keep a piece of cake for longer than a few minutes. It seemed odder still that people subsequently bought these slices of Royal wedding cake at auction for thousands of pounds.
Much as I admire both the Royal family and cake, I find it baffling. In 2013, someone bought a piece of the Queen’s wedding cake for £1,750. In 2014, a nutter in Beverly Hills paid $7,500 (£5,290) for a bit of Prince William and Kate’s cake. There’s a slice of their wedding cake on eBay now, if you’re interested. A steal at £2,000. Condition “new”. Thank God for that, eh? You wouldn’t want to spend thousands of pounds on a scrap of cake from 2011 and discover it was “used”.
This is why I’m relieved that Prince Harry and Meghan have announced they’re having a lemon and elderflower sponge cake for their wedding. Made by a smiley East End baker called Claire Ptak, it’s going to “incorporate the fresh flavours of spring” and be covered with buttercream. Not being preserved by lashings of alcohol means, I presume, that slices of it won’t keep and loyal subjects can’t tuck bits of it away for decades. I see this cake not only as triumph for standards of public hygiene, but for Harry and Meghan’s wedding guests, too.
Because there are many lovely things about a wedding. The church bit. Drinking 63 glasses of champagne. The canapés, so long as there are enough. Later, a spin on the dance floor to Stevie Wonder. But the cake? Not that lovely when it’s a fruitcake so dense it could double as a murder weapon.
Often these days, the cake is a bit of an afterthought, too, hidden in a corner or scrapped entirely in favour of a doughnut wall. Or those cakes made from big wheels of cheese, ideal at 11pm when I need sustenance before heading back on to the dance floor. But cheese is not the same as a delicious slice of sugary sponge. So bravo, Meghan and Harry. Great choice. Just please don’t feel like you have to pop a slice in the post for me.
Is it too late to put things write?
Who was it that described their handwriting as a drunken spider crawling across the page? I ask because this week I went into Harper Collins to sign advance copies of my novel. An exciting day but my handwriting is diabolical – like a spider who’s not only drunk, but has broken all his hips and lost his shoes dragging himself across the page.
As a result, my books have gone out signed with an indecipherable string of hieroglyphics. How I long to have a loopy, elegant hand. “You should go on a handwriting course,” suggested a friend. But given that I’m 33 and should be able to properly form my letters, I can’t decide whether this is a sensible use of time or wildly self-indulgent.
Cadbury’s makes a rather good egg
Great uproar this week when a survey revealed that plastic and cardboard packaging accounts for a third of the total weight of certain high street Easter eggs. Well, yes. You only have to look at them to realise that. When I was little, I was felt similar outrage towards the Easter egg, but not because of the packaging. The eggs were nearly always hollow! What a swizz.
That’s why I still cleave to the humble Creme Egg, myself. That fondant albumen! That dayglow yolk! That thick shell of milk chocolate! A conscientious choice for 2018, too, since they come sans plastic, merely wrapped in that flimsy layer of foil.
