Diana Smith Harris, 62, from Leeds
Smushing a bunch of overripe bananas into a bowl, I greased my favourite loaf tin before adding it to the preheated oven.
Before long, the smell of the banana cake filled the house and that only meant one thing.
My husband Eugene, 68, would follow the scent!
After baking, cooling, and slicing, I’d then place the cake back in the oven.
Only, this time round it didn’t need cooking, I was hiding it.
Creeping into the kitchen ready for a slice as my belly was rumbling, I opened the door…
But the cake had disappeared!
‘EUGENE…’ I shrieked.
‘Some magic fairies must have eaten it…’ he laughed, with crumbs all over his jumper.
That was our usual routine – I was happily the cook and Eugene would be overjoyed eating it all.
And in all honesty, I’m glad it stayed that way, he wasn’t a
