"I could make some of those," I remarked.
Keith looked at me in amazement. "But you never make me cakes," he said. "You always say I can't have any."
This is true and is in vain pursuit of a leaner, svelter man, but so far, it hasn't worked.
So, by the time he got home I had been shopping, bought the required ingredients and utensils, and there was a superb scent of newly baked scones wafting from the kitchen.
I used to do a lot of baking when my children were growing up. Those were the days when I could produce six dozen mince pies on Christmas Eve and be left with an empty cake tin by Boxing Day.
But today - those scones. They were so light, a puff of wind could have blown them away. Didn't take long to make, either.
Hmm, I feel a new creative urge coming on.
Nigella, eat your heart out, girl. Make way for the expert!