This was the scene after my latest bout of baking. My beloved Mason Cash mixing bowl smashed into 11 pieces (I counted them). For once, this breakage was not a result of my inherent clumsiness. The bowl was simply old and very tired and fell apart in my hands. Given that this bowl was passed down to my mum from my Gran, who then handed it over to me, I'd estimate that it has served around 60 years of culinary duty. It's seen a hell of a lot of baking in its days. Luckily, the disaster occurred post-washing-up, so no mixture was harmed.
However, my heartbreak was short lived. My mum kindly bought me a newer, shinier, black version of this Mason Cash classic. Now what to christen it with…?
