Whenever anyone asks me to make a cake for them, I have a little private panic attack. I’m like an iceberg, all cool and icy calm on top but under the surface I’m a giant mass of frozen anxiety. I am a cake perfectionist. I want the cake to be the most amazing cake ever in the history of the world which is putting myself under some unnecessary pressure and the inevitable failure to live up to the impossible standards I have set. Especially when there’s a timeframe with which make the cake, the fact that it has to hold up for a length of time and also withstand the judgement of friends and random people. Random people are the scariest of them all.