Yes peeps, champers, chocolates and cupcakes. On a Saturday afternoon. I think the word that the youngsters use nowadays is 'lush' (or is that to describe my drinking habit??)
Anyway, we met at the train station in the gorgeous sunshine and before we knew it we had arrived at The Peacock Bar - 30 minutes early (not excited - much!). Being the resourceful Aussie girls we are and having always been taught to entertain ourselves, we perused the cocktail list, read up on the Burlesque portion of the club's entertainment offering and did a little reconnaissance on our preferred position at the chocolate-pots.
(I'd like to point out here that this was purely for the chocolate-making, not the burlesque, although there was a boobs chocolate mold and another that looked alarmingly like a woman's...well...bits. But this is a family blog - hi Mum - so let's move on to less fruity tales!)
Serious dipping, dribbling and chocolate mold-filling was the first order of the day (oh sorry wait - it was the second: champers was the first!) and before long, our creative efforts were whisked away to 'chill' before our departure. Come to think of it, I am now wondering how on earth those little bundles of cocoa joy knew that they needed to prepare for a stressful trip home.
Then it was on with the cakes - and some rather nuclear coloured icing that kept melting a little in the heat. But with perseverence (and a few nips outside for a
A's were pretty good too but she was quite speedy about it all and hers were boxed up for taking home before I got around to whipping out the ol' HTC for happy-snapping.
So there was nothing left to do but have a(nother) drink and sample some more of the expert/organisers' wares while our chocolates continued to get suitably chilled (remember, we did the chocolates bit before the cupcakes bit.)
After three hours or so, we were issued with our little bundles of chilled cocoa joy and, placing our boxes of iced splendor carefully into carrier bags, we set off in search of the local gbk (all hail gbk!) and a savoury snackette (a chicken and avocado burger, chunky fries and smoked chilli mayo between us) to take the edge off our sugar rush before heading home, comfortably ensconsed behind our fashionable sunglasses at 5.30pm.
(Imagine, if you will, two grown-up and determined-not-to-stop-yet children after substantial quantities of red cordial, followed by the inevitable post-cordial slump, the slavish search for carbohydrates and a doze-y train ride home. The walk (me) / cycle (A) home from the station was never going to go well.)
Just for the record, the cakes did not really survive the trip home...
|These are A's - mine weren't much better!|