We were given a bag of freshly picked passionfruits, and with all my training as "chef's little helper", I thought I'd just whip up a cake as I waited for my lasagne to bake.
I beat that little cake with my bare hands, no mix masters or hand held electric mixers - no no no, this was Country Woman's Association style. So when it had been in for 15mins and had achieved a text book golden brown colour I flipped it out onto the cooling rack, trying to exceed myself by not leaving wire marks on the cake's surface. I noticed that it was squishy but took that for spongy or moist - as B used to say. But before I could gloat: 'Just Call Me Martha', a tsunami of cake batter came flooding towards me. Needless to say Mum and PJ were in hysterics.