Cupcakes are a great Halloween party food and if you can combine a sweet treat with something gruesome you are most definitely winning in the Halloween stakes. I don't know if these birds are meant to be crows or ravens-let's just call these crows only because I saw these in Zilly Rosen's great Zombie Cupcakes book and they called them crows. I decided to merge a couple of cupcakes-I wanted the crow to have a little red flesh in its mouth and look like it was eating at a wound. I know, I'm gruesome aren't I?
If you had asked me what my main aims were during primary school it wasn't really to achieve great marks, be popular or become a prefect or school captain. It was quite honestly, to avoid all sport and P.E. classes. I'd rather have been in the library reading books or doing something peaceful. Having a hard ball thrown at you and hitting it with a wooden paddle seemed like a pretty good way to get some sort of injury and and my physical limitations and clumsiness always ensured that I was the last picked for any cricket game (and I shudder whenever the sport comes on television).
I was never given prime position of a bowler/ pitcher or a batter. I was the one out in the field assiduously avoiding all contact with the ball-we had all decided that it was best that way. And one day while far out in the field listening to the distant rumble of the cricket captain getting mad at another student for not hitting the ball far enough I was busy contemplating the dry yellow grass. A raven swooped down and sat on the fence beside me and looked at me. I was alarmed. I had seen the movie The Omen and didn't know the difference between a raven or a crow and was terrified that the look that it gave me was a challenge.
It looked at me and I looked at it and it cocked its head so I cocked my head back. "Don't peck my eyes out ok birdy?" I said to it and it didn't agree or disagree so I considered that a draw. My mother who was superstitious told me that ravens were creatures that signified illness or death. The strange black bird kept me company for a few minutes that afternoon far out in the field and thankfully it didn't attack me although perhaps it had seen me when the ball freakishly came out my way. I screamed, ducked and it whizzed past my head and the bird flew away in alarm. Clearly I was not to be messed with as the sight of a mere ball caused a meltdown.
And for those of you that miss the pretty things, programming will resume to become pretty again soon. Hmm come to think of it, perhaps it wasn't my lack of coordination but my love for the gruesome that meant I wasn't picked for a team....
So tell me Dear Reader, were you ever last picked for the sports team? Or were you good at sports?