Feeling the heat

I'd come home from the gym to discover that my wife and daughter, who'd been baking all morning, had gone shopping. My wife and daughter like going shopping. And having coffee-stops. It's a hobby.

Max, just turned 17, passed on an important message: "There's a cheesecake baking and Mum says you've got to turn it off when the timer beeps – but don't open the oven door," he announced, breathlessly.

Apparently, it's vital to a good cheesecake that it sits in the oven for a while after it's turned off. Don't ask me why – I don't profess to be a cheesecake expert.

I noticed a yellow Post-it note with big black writing stuck to the oven door. "SWITCH OFF WHEN TIMER GOES BEEP BUT DO NOT – REPEAT DO NOT – OPEN THE OVEN DOOR."

OK, OK, I'd got the message. The timer showed there were 15 minutes to go and the importance of not opening the oven door had been firmly implanted in my brain.

I started to read the newspaper and the phone rang. It was my daughter. She was on a coffee-stop: "I'm just ringing to check that you got the message about the cheesecake," she said.

"Yes," I replied. "Max told me – and I read the note on the sticker."

"So you know not to open the oven door, don't you, Dad?" she added.

I started to wonder what would happen if I did open the oven door. Would the cheesecake monster jump out and attack me? Would a bomb go off and splatter me with cheesecake? Would I face an eternity of suffering in the ovens of hell?

I carried on reading the paper. The beeps went off and I jumped up like Usain Bolt at the sound of the starter's pistol in the Olympic 100 metres final. Just as I'd been told, I turned the oven off but, as God's my witness, I did not open the door.

Mission accomplished. I went back to finish my paper and the phone rang again. It was my wife who has a built-in oven timer in her head.

"Have the beeps gone?"

"Yes."

"Have you turned the oven off?"

"Yes."

"You haven't opened the oven door, have you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She might easily have added: "And are you really stupid?"

My wife and daughter were home soon afterwards and, to their intense disappointment, the cheesecake was slightly over-cooked.

"You opened the oven door, didn't you?" said my wife.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

THANKS to fellow dad Gavin Havery, of Ryton, who passed on a conversation with his three-year-old Tilda:

"Are we going to Great Grandma’s now?" asked Tilda.

"Yes," said Gavin.

"Is Normal Grandma coming too?" came the reply.

THE THINGS WIVES SAY

"I SEE George Clooney is getting married," I said to my wife.

She pretended she hadn't heard me.

"You'll just have to make do with me," I added.

"Not necessarily," she muttered.

TALKING of my wife and her cutting remarks, thank you for the understanding letters and emails which followed my last column.

To recap briefly, I'd worked my fingers to the bone for days in the garden, trying to remove a tree stump. As I tried to lever it out, the spade snapped – and so did my wife.

"Well, that's typical," was her blunt observation.

I've been doing a bit more gardening over the past week and this time I've lost her secateurs somewhere in the jungle of shrubbery.

It's only a matter of time before she realises so, if anyone has a spare pair of secateurs or a metal detector, please pop round. Thanks.