Read The Baking Life of Amelie Day for Free Online

whirls. I scribble a few ideas down onto a pad. Classic strawberry jam-filled whirls, I reckon. Made with really good flour and country butter, home-made jam from my cupboard and dusted with icing sugar. Or maybe I might experiment with chocolate whirls instead, sandwiched together with smooth, sweet chocolate buttercream and dipped in hot dark melting chocolate so that half the biscuit is plain and half dipped.
    Then I remember my blog. I reach under the sofa and slide out my laptop to log on.
    There are another six replies to my first posting!
    Five of them are from people offering biscuit recipes. The sixth is from some girl wishing me good luck with the competition.
    I scan down the recipes and my mind starts to buzz with chocolate drops and vanilla essence and great luscious big chunks of fudge.
    I feel all inspired so I click on the menu bar on my blog and select ‘new post’. Then I tuck my legs up under my duvet and balance the laptop on my knees. This is what I write:
    Hi, it’s Amelie here – the girl who bakes. Wow – I’m really amazed to come on and find these brilliant biscuit recipes. I promise I will try them all out when I’ve got the time and energy. That’s not supposed to sound wet. The thing is, I kind of suffer from an illness and it saps a lot of my strength. That’s why I bake – because I am supposed to try and fatten myself up as much as possible in order to stay alive. Plus I just love baking – it’s my favourite thing in life, other than Harry (boyfriend) and my BF Gemma. Anyway, you know I wrote last time about that competition in London? The one I’ve been selected for? The thing is – I’m too sick to go. Or at least my Mum reckons I am. So I’m drowning not just in mucus (sorry, TMI!) but in disappointment at the moment. But anyway, please carry on sending me your recipes. Any good, sticky cake recipes with a twist would be good. Have any of you ever attempted a chocolate fondant? If not, go and look it up and try to make it. Post a photo online if you can. It’s kind of a challenge to get the middle bit runny and not too firm. So I’m signing off now, but I’ll post an update of what’s happening in my ever-changing life soon. Amelie x
    For the first time all week I feel the prick of something resembling appetite.
    I lurch up and stagger into the kitchen.
    The clank of pans and me banging into cupboards brings Mum downstairs all prepared to be cross, but when she sees me stirring a pan of rich scrambled eggs and frying up crispy bacon to scatter over the top, she grabs a plate and sits down.
    â€˜Ages since I had a midnight snack,’ she says. ‘It will sit on my hips all night, but who cares?’
    She’s grinning. I can see that she’s relieved that I’m starting to want to eat savoury stuff again. It’s usually a good sign.
    â€˜Mum?’ I say, spooning the creamy eggs onto her plate and sprinkling the salty shreds of bacon on top. I grind black pepper onto my egg before I add the bacon. Then I put a strong pot of tea in the middle of the table and pour full-fat milk into cups. ‘If I get better this week, could we talk about London again?’
    Mum puts down her fork.
    â€˜Amelie,’ she says, ‘I’ve discussed this with your father. We really don’t think that any time spent in London is going to be any good for your health at all, and your health is our priority.’
    I pull a sulky face and shovel in forkfuls of bright yellow egg. The free-range ones are always this sunshine-yellow colour, like the chickens have spent many happy hours pecking about in sun-lit grass. The bacon is a brilliant contrast – sharp, salty and with a nice fatty aftertaste. I’ve served the bacon and eggs on soft home-made brown bread with loads of butter. Dad says that my cooked breakfasts are the best in the world and I reckon he might just be right.
    â€˜Can’t we