When I was a sixteen year old girl, living in London and going to school at the USAF base in Bushey Park, I had three month long summer holidays. Between my sophomore and junior years I joined a few other American students and worked for several weeks at the International Food Fair which took place in the Olympia Exhibition Halls.

There were, I think, different areas for different nationalities but the only one I can remember is the American stands so, maybe it was only the American Food Fair – it’s so long ago I just can’t remember for sure. I was lucky enough (I thought) to be working on the Betty Crocker stand.

It was our job to stand behind the counter on a stage and mix a cake or other dessert from a packet of a Betty Crocker cake mix, showing how easy it is to make these fantastic items.

One morning, I decided to make a packet of Date Bars. This was an item that I had made before at home several times – and I always enjoyed trying the finished article! So, I introduced the mix, showing the two bags inside the box. One of the bags, the largest, contained the base mix which was oatie and delicious.

To the contents of the bag, I imagine I had to add some melted butter or margerine, then to press half the mixture into the cake tin. When that was done, I had to add, perhaps warm water – I just don’t remember – to the smaller bag of the pair, which was an amount of dates, probably cut up into tiny pieces.

The trouble was that, at the time, on that particular day, I didn’t remember, either! I remember adding something to the date mix but it wasn’t the right thing or it wasn’t enough of the right thing! There I stood, in front of quite a large audience, supposedly showing them how easy this mix was to make and it was anything but easy. The date mix was supposed to be spread over the base but it wouldn’t spread and it wouldn’t come off the spoon I was using to pick it up and it wouldn’t come off my fingers and I just kept trying and trying and……. finally had to admit to all the people standing there, that I had done something wrong somewhere along the way.

I think I must have been very close to tears! I have forgotten how I got off that stage into the area where the audience couldn’t see me. I’m not certain that I went back on that stage again, though I probably did, as the job paid quite well and, anyway, the same people wouldn’t pay to come and see me do it again. Would they?