I bow to the wisdom of the marvellous Mary Berry
I was thrilled to bits to see my favourite, Frances, win The Great British Bake-Off this week with her beautiful wedding cake design.
Her edible confetti cake was the only one of the finalist's concoctions that you would actually want at your wedding. Kimberley's was boringly covered in white icing with the odd silver ball by way of decoration and poor old Ruby's, to be frank, looked like a nine-year-old's cookery project at primary school. Except messier.
The cakes made by Kimberley and Ruby may have tasted OK inside. But when it comes to a celebration for your big day, then let's be honest about it – the outside matters just as much as what's inside.
If you ever are in need of cheering up, please do visit my favourite ever website, as tipped off by my clever colleague Anna.
It's called Cake Wrecks (www.cakewrecks.com) and never fails to raise a smile for me, no matter how tough a day I'm having.
Based, I think, in either Canada or America, the site is subtitled "When Professional Cakes go Horribly, Hilariously, Wrong". There's everything there from the huge and beautifully iced cake with elegantly piped writing on top saying: "Best Wishes Suzanne Under Neath That We Will Miss You" to a cake with an all-too-realistic depiction of a woman giving birth to a baby.
Both mother and child are naked and terrifyingly lifelike, complete with the iced-on words: "Push, Olivia, Push!"
Pregnancy and birth certainly seem to bring out the worst in cake "wreckarators", according to the evidence of this fabulous website.
There are several examples of a disembodied woman's heavily-pregnant torso in cake form. Then there's the quite gasp-inducing C-section cakes, which are pretty staggering, too.
It was my husband's birthday this week and, as my mum was staying, she and the kids made a very pretty coffee birthday cake for him. Simply round with lots of gold candles, it looked and tasted terrific.
As Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood kept reminding the extravagantly talented Frances in Bake-Off, you need to have style and substance when you're cooking. Frances, a clothes designer, scattered exquisite little sugar bumble bees and pastry rainbows wherever she cooked.
She is so arty, she just couldn't help herself. What she needed to do was make sure the taste matched the appearance and, by the final, she did just that.
I was reminded of just that point when John and I went out for his birthday dinner. We tried a new restaurant in Exeter which has been converted from the old general hospital in the city.
The last time John was in that very building was decades ago, to visit his friend who had been somewhat unlucky on a rather disastrous shooting expedition.
While looking for rabbits one night one of the chaps fell off the back of a Land Rover (don't ask) and used his gun as a walking stick to help him get back to his feet (again, don't ask).
The gun went off and the shot went into John's friend through the back of his leg, then ricocheted around the Land Rover's cab and narrowly missed the back of my husband's head.
The older chaps dashed off to hospital bearing their severely-bleeding companion with them. In their panic they left John, aged 13, who had jumped out of the vehicle to open the gates, behind – miles from home and in the middle of an East Devon field at midnight.
Anyway, the old hospital has been transformed into a super-groovy place to eat. The huge open ward now has all sorts of cool stuff on the walls, including life-sized portraits of Lenin. It all made me feel ever so slightly old and square, I must say.
In memory of John's shooting memories I ordered pheasant breast on a bed of puy lentils. It looked great... but was flipping awful to eat.
The lentils had been boiled into submission and tasted of mud, the pheasant hadn't been hung, was badly butchered, completely tasteless and bland.
I sat there in the super-cool surroundings and thought to myself: Yep, Mary Berry is absolutely right. Style and substance, you need them both in life. Still, we had a fun night. Just like with the cake wrecks, sometimes all you can do is laugh.