Charity Cakes and Swearing

Cake sales are a brilliant way of raising money.  Everyone loves cake but it is possible to get to a saturation point.  Yesterday I was forced to eat cake three times in the name of charity.  At school the children ran a cake sale in aid of Sport Relief.  It took a while to persuade the children that I really did want to pay £2 for a banana muffin and that I really didn't want 10 cakes (which I could have for £2).  As we also had to wear sports wear for the day I really couldn't risk 10 cakes while wearing Lycra.  The children raised £88!

 

Then at Orchestra practice one of the children was holding a cake sale and raffle in aid of CAFOD.  Older, wiser children were easier to persuade that I wanted to pay £2 for a small chocolate crispy cake.

 

The raffle was pure joy.  My Dad had bought loads of raffle tickets but was determined not to win any prizes so every time his number was called he gave his ticket to someone in the orchestra.  I'm not saying he has favourites but the brass section did particularly well in the raffle.  The flutes missed out because although I bought lots of tickets I have never won a raffle prize in my life.  Once I thought I was the winner, got very excited, jumped up started to walk up to collect my prize only to find I wasn't the only person and realised I had mis-heard the number.  Oh, the humiliation!  The members of the orchestra were so lovely and kind that people who won for a second time gave their ticket to someone else.  This wasn't because the prizes were terrible - they were great.  My son won a cocktail kit, which he was very excited about.  They raised just over £60.

 

Then it was the PAMs concert in aid of Farleigh Hospice and I was forced into another cake.  Embarrassingly, I only had 50p in my purse when it was time to buy a raffle ticket.  They did have a genius way of raising funds though.  Although, the concert was free to attend, everyone had to pay to get out (including the performers, who were encouraged to pay more for every wrong note they had played that evening)  Obviously, I didn't play a single wrong note but did manage to find a screwed up £5 note in the pocket of my dog walking jacket, so I was allowed out.

Another good way to raise money would be to have a swear box in the staff room.  I would say more but I was told not to blog about it so I won't, except to say that it isn't the worst I've heard.  In the late 80's I was at the BBC, sitting in the canteen on a table next to two children's TV presenters.  I was surprised because they still spoke with the patronising voices they used on television but was even more surprised to learn that "that Basil Brush is a f**ing c**!"