2019 Plans (Jan-Mar)

As I am very much in downtime and coming up with what I am hopeful 2019 will be, I thought I would take the time and write some of this down. This isn’t a resolution list (although losing weight will once again be on that one!), this is plans. Will these plans be a 100% set in stone? To begin with, yes, after that who knows. This will cover everything I am hoping to do, so if you want to know then read on!

Jan-Mar 2019

The first month will be the hardest. Money will be the constant issue here, and should funds run out then all bets and plans are off. But here is what I hope to achieve in the first 3 months

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The Silver Tart – Part Six

The import section of Bakewell Street was a strange place to be. Technically and legally home to all imports into Cake Stand City the majority of the trade was illegal in some manner. That was not to say that everything being imported was an illegal good, but when an import duty was dodged or a cake allowed access to items not authorised for them, a legal good becomes illegal.

Bread knew he and Muffin had been sent here purely to be out of the way. Gache could have let them stay in the office but that was not his way. Bread also knew that Gache wanted his take on Muffin. So far his opinion was not very good.

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The Silver Tart – Part Five

From the salacious strawberry to the lascivious lemon, the radiant raspberry to the captivating cherry, the bewitching blackberry to the down right dirty custard, if you were looking for a good time and had the dough to spend, Bakewell Street was where you headed. Home not only to the licensed brothels and bordellos, if your were looking for an extra ounce of icing sugar or liquor, this was the place to come. Situated on the middle tier, with its own access to the complicated lift system, Bakewell Street was the place for shady shenanigans in Cake Stand City.

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Inspector Gache – A Taster if you will

It was rare for it to rain in Cake Stand City, but tonight the rain lashed down hard and battered the streets. Inspector Gache sat in his small home, eyes glued to the drops of rain, waiting for the knock on the door he knew would come. It was not that he was superstitious, he just knew rain instilled a primal fear in the residents of this great city. For as a wise but often deranged Fruit and Nut loaf once said ‘no one likes a soggy cake’.

He didn’t have to wait long for that knock. He walked slowly to his door, grabbing his rain jacket of yellow icing on the way. Opening the door he had expected one of the many Constables to be waiting for him, instead he found himself looking at the Mayor; an odd Raisin Cake who verged on the larger side and whose well known disposition and fondness for rum had made him one of the few cakes alive to permanently add an ingredient to his mix post bake. Still, the Mayor was a shrewd character who was not known for running his own errands, especially not alone.
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