Crossing The Line

Alright mate, howdy hey ya and hello to all of you. This may come as a big old shock or to those closer to me, its yesterdays new’s but bare with any how. Over the last year i have started to develop a taste of baking. Yes thats right baking, i make a good old cake. No i do not wear a apron.  I can see all your minds now, picturing me with a mid 1960’s housewife hair due, with the ultra retro pink and baby blue apron that has ‘Kiss the Chef’ embezzled on the front with varies kiss patterns across the hem of it. Standing by a window that over looks a garden as my two children play while i clutch a deep plastic basin to my chest that is a garish yellow in colour. In my other hand i have a giant wooden spoon which doubles as a weapon if the kids get out of line. I am staring happily out the garden window as i manually mix my sultana loaf with my hand with a fist of fury.  Suddenly i stop, look up and anger sweeps across my face. ‘Christ almighty, Tommy get the hell out of the vegetab