In a world where nasty is the norm, the bakers are sweetness personified
It must be autumn. Bake-off is on the telly. Look, okay, I admit, I do quite like it. I watch it in the same way that our cat Jex watches football. He likes to lie in front of the telly, his ears all pricked up, head bobbing back and forward.
He has no idea what is happening, but he likes the little white ball bouncing across the screen. He clearly finds it very relaxing. At some point he’ll yawn, have a bit of a stretch and then carry out a thorough clean of his boy bits.
Well, that’s me watching Bake-off, only I tend to leave my nether regions alone.
It is very relaxing, even though I have absolutely no idea what they are doing. But I know they're good at it.
I’ve always loved watching people who know what they’re doing do it well. I get that from my dad.
He once got me to stand next to him on the deck of the Dunoon-Gourock ferry in the middle of a howling gale, just to watch the crew skilfully bring MV Juno alongside the pier.
Watching the bakers is as satisfying as seeing Simone Biles complete a triple-twisting double backflip. In my eyes, everyone in that tent is a star baker. But I love it because they’re all nice people.
Well, admittedly, that Paul Hollywood is a bit of a baleful presence, like a grizzly bear in double denim. But we all know he’s playing the part of the mildly scary pantomime villain.
Today those who compete must be “in it to win it”. Weakness must never be shown. Doing the dirty on the opposition is crucial. Infighting, mud-slinging and back-stabbing are all top dogs tactics.
Only fools are helpful, considerate and polite, and yet our competing bakers console each other when sponges fall flat or meringues go chewy.
They cheer the star baker and hug that week’s loser. They are sweet, kind people. Perhaps it’s the exposure to icing sugar and frangipane.
In a world where being nasty seems to be the norm, the bakers of the tent are beacons of civility.