Growing up, I lived in a house full of books but there was one book that ruled them all: The Women’s Weekly Birthday Cake book. Our house was guaranteed four birthday parties a year (my three brothers and I always had a birthday party) and the birthday cake book was treated like a catalogue – we flicked through, told Dad what we wanted – and he made it for us.
The party food was always the same. Every. Signal. Time. We ate cheerios (the small red ‘sausages’ not the cereal), fairy bread, chips and dip, sandwiches, bowls of lollies and sausage rolls.
This week a book landed on my desk that could easily become the modern day equivalent of our much-loved party book.
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