The day after my birthday I spent a train journey home plotting how to make this cake. There were diagrams, there were pros and cons lists drawn up for each recipe, a somewhat lengthily discussion with various friends over txt about which theme the cake should take and even a Pinterest inspiration board. The minute I got home, I ran out to the cake decorating shop (aka Nirvana) to stock up on glitter and sprinkles. I then ran home and began construction, which took around three hours.
It was a four layer vanilla victoria sponge cake with a jam centre and pastel pink faux-butter icing top and sides. And some sprinkles and pale green icing piping for good measure. It was meant to stand at around 12cm high, but it only came to about five. Because it was also inedible. Although the batter rose at first, it later sunk somehow even lower than the level it was when it went in the oven, and never lifted again. When I cut through the many layers of icing and piping and sprinkles (with my whole family looking on, actually quite hungry now too) it was to four layers of wafer thin raw cake mixture. Nice. We all tried to eat a slice, drank twice as much prosecco and didn't mention it again for the entire weekend.
So there you are, when bad cake happens.
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