The Becks files .


Slice of Death

This year, I inherited a team to manage at work. We’ve all had a massive and, to be blunt, traumatic 6 months together after our company was acquired by a soul-less Big Corporate. To show my gratitude for their efforts over a tough time, I thought I would give them something yummy, homemade and from the heart for Christmas.

I went to the shops and got all the ingredients I’d need to make my favourite choc-coconut slice, enough for eleven people to have four massive pieces they could take home and share with their families. I spent six hours over two days preparing and cooking, and this afternoon I put the slice in the fridge before heading out (technically this wasn’t necessary, but it was a very hot day and I didn’t want to risk it going bad).

When I got home tonight, I took the slice out and prepared to cut it up, but the fridge had made it way too hard and I couldn’t get a normal knife through it. I thought I’d try with the big butcher’s knife, but it was just solid, and I couldn’t do it; eventually I went to get James to help me. Normally I’d just wait for it to soften, but tomorrow is my last day of work for the year and I had to get everything ready before going to bed.

We persevered with the butcher’s knife and finally managed to get it cut up and ready for me to wrap. I made slice towers and put each one onto a pre-prepared cardboard base, carefully wrapped them in cellophane, lovingly tied them up with little-tiny-twine bows and attached the name tags I’d handmade earlier.

It was now getting late, but I couldn’t leave a mess and go to bed, so I spent over an hour tidying the kitchen and doing the washing up. The very last item in the dishes was the butcher’s knife. As I looked down at it, I noticed something strange. The tip of the knife was missing… what… when did that happen…. it was there when I star…t… ed…

Upon realising this meant that the tip of an enormous knife was hidden somewhere in the goodie bags I’d just painstakingly wrapped, turning them into little parcels of potential death, I took some ‘time-out’ to reflect on my feelings.

After much drama, James convinced me that we could try carefully unwrapping the parcels and hunting for the knife-tip. I eventually agreed. As I slowly unwrapped, he meticulously searched each of the forty-four pieces of choc-coconut slice for the tiny dagger, but to no avail.

Then we searched the floor, the sink, the bin, my work bag, the couch, our clothes and the rest of the freaking house knowing that if we didn’t find it, we could not guarantee that the slice would be safe for human consumption.

But since, despite our best efforts, we could not locate the elusive knife-tip, I have had no choice but to completely dispose of my baking in the same manner that the universe, through this experience, has disposed of any hope that I will one day be able to complete a simple task without either falling over, running into something, or killing someone.

2016 Moment of the year, no competition.


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