The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
I’ve decided to resign as a volunteer on the lifeboat and you deserve to know why
From the depths of the drawer, where it was buried under his socks, Gordy’s beeper went. Pulling his pillow closer to him, he tried to ignore it. There was no way he was going on a shout now! They wouldn’t want him, and to be honest he could do without the horrible nausea that gripped him every time he set foot on the boat, even before it had left the slipway.
Seasick! Who’d have thought that he, Gordy Munro, whose grandfather had died saving lives, would suffer from seasickness? Talk about embarrassing.
He’d tried to ignore it, to tell himself it was psychological, but it didn’t make any difference.
It was just another thing to add to the list of reasons why he was a total idiot for having applied in the first place.
The beeper stopped. They must have their full complement. Gordy dragged himself out of bed and took the device out of the drawer.
He knew, with sickening certainty, that the next time it went he’d ignore that one, too.
It was time to face the music. Picking up his mobile, Gordy scrolled through his contacts list. Coxswain or LOM first?
Frustration
A crash from the kitchen, followed by a cry of frustration from his mum, decided him.
Gordy put his phone down on the bed, took a deep breath and made his way downstairs.
Jill Munro was frowning over a recipe book, the air redolent with the smell of burnt offerings.
“Gordy, I’ve baked a madeira cake. Do you want to try a bit?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to tackle your cake, to be honest, Mum.”
She sighed.
“I don’t think anyone’s ready to tackle my cake! Do you want a sandwich?”
“Ta, that would be great. But I’ll take it with me. I’ve decided to go to the festival after all.”
His mum beamed.
“I’m glad. You will pack a jumper, won’t you? Because . . .”
“Mum, it’s August, I won’t need a jumper.
Sit down,” Gordy told her. “Before I go, I’ve got something to tell you.
“I’ve decided to resign as a volunteer on the lifeboat and you deserve to know why.”
It was, thankfully, a lovely day, and warm for the beginning of September.
The huge, open-sided marquee, supplied gratis by a nearby wedding-events company, was tethered at the head of the jetty.
Crowds were allowed access from the pier, the beach and the main street which had been closed off for the occasion.
The local paper was in attendance. Doris, as MC for the day, had dressed with her usual elan, showcasing the official RNLI colours in a white full-skirted dress trimmed with red, and a pair of navy-blue shoes.
Earrings in the shape of lifeboats, and an armada of bracelets, necklaces and brooches, set off her outfit to perfection.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the Muir Ferry Bake Off.”
The PA system squawked a bit, but that couldn’t be helped. Doris flashed a beaming smile.
“Without further ado, I’ll hand over to our very special celebrity guest judge. A big hand please, for the Cakemeister!”
His real name was the rather more mundane Ed Smith, and Doris had never heard of him until a couple of weeks ago.
But Meg was a bit of a fan, and regularly watched him on the cooking channel.
Fantastic
She had written, not expecting a reply, yet here he was, larger than life.
Much larger than life, actually, and that Hawaiian shirt didn’t help!
But he had a jolly smile, and his signature tune, “A Spoonful Of Sugar”, was certainly getting the crowd going.
“Hello, Muir Ferry!” the Cakemeister said. “It’s fantastic to be here, on such a lovely day, to raise money for such a great cause.
“So, before we get down to the business of baking, let me just remind you of all the ways you can donate today . . .”
He might look like a retired surfer with a doughnut habit, but the Cakemeister was a pro, Doris thought, as he ran through every single penny-raising route before going over the rules.
Having decided that watching the contestants actually bake was both too technically challenging and time-consuming, each entrant had been given a shadow whose job was to ensure that the submissions really were from their own kitchen.
Otherwise, the Muir Ferry Bake Off followed the format of the television programme.
“OK, Muir Ferry, are you ready to bake?” the Cakemeister demanded.
The roar nearly lifted the flimsy roof of the marquee.
“Then let’s bake!”
Jill’s Signature Challenge effort of Mars Bar cupcakes looked more like meteor shower cupcakes, the Cakemeister announced to much hilarity from the crowd.
In Doris’s opinion, the charity bookies’ odds on Jill winning at 100-1 were far from generous.
Honourable mention, and much smacking of the Cakemeister’s lips, went to Meg’s strawberry shortcake version, and also to Sally from the Sandy Beach Café for her rhubarb and bramble ones.
Gerard Gillhooly, a local artist and ceramic maker, also gained a surprise honourable mention with his sea salt, bacon and egg combo.
“Very Heston Blumenthal,” the Cakemeister declared.
The Technical Challenge set for the contestants was to make a tipsy cake.
“I’m afraid yours looks thoroughly inebriated, my love,” the Cakemeister informed Jill.
Honourable
Once again, the same three contestants were awarded honourable mentions, though in Doris’s opinion, Meg had the edge over the other two.
It was going to be a close-run thing and everything would rest on the result of the last challenge.
As the Showstopper was announced, a carnival atmosphere filled the marquee and spilled outside. Donations and charity bets were flowing.
The many cake and biscuit stalls were doing a roaring trade.
The slipway fund was surely going to jump a good few notches on the big cardboard gauge that now hung permanently on the wall of the Shipwright’s function suite.
Currently marooned in last place, Jill was first up for judging.
“Blackpool Tower?” the Cakemeister hazarded. “And the Winter Gardens?”
“It’s supposed to be the Longstone Lighthouse, and that’s Grace Darling’s rowing-boat.”
The Cakemeister looked dubious.
“Really? Well, that’s certainly relevant. Everyone loves a trier, Jill.
“You’ve been a fantastic sport. Big hand for Jill, everyone!”
More tomorrow.