Profit may not be a dirty word, but Profiterole is

After the highs of Beast day there was only one direction in which to travel and I took it - first class, high speed and face first.

The curse of pastry came back with a vengeance, this time choux pastry made up for its more conventional cousins. Actually the choux pastry was not the real problem it made it cooked, it had a hole made in it to let out steam and crisped up nicely. But the pastry was only the start of the dish. Then came Creme Patisserie, then Chantilly cream to mix with the Creme Pat. then came piping it in through the previously made hole and then came making a chocolate sauce to cover the plate of sugar dusted cream filled pastries.

Whilst others effortlessly made towering skyscrapers of crisp but melting unctuous cream filled perfect pastry shells

my creme patisserie when combined with the cream made a filling so runny that it poured out of the piping bag before it could be introduced to the pastry. I admit that I had to borrow some from another, and clearly talented, student to complete the dish. Then I managed to dust the sorry ensemble with caster rather than icing sugar leaving it looking as though it had been pebbledashed by a shortsighted labourer. The borrowed chocolate sauce made it half presentable

but I did not bother finding out the score.

Then we had an unexpected load of Strawberry Jam to make. This passed without incident but took up lots of time, time I could ill afford as Mrs K had made the trip over to see me for one night before heading back to Wales and thence to babysit in England.

Eventually I joined her for lunch and then she attended the afternoon Demo which concentrated on her two favourite dishes another 30 ways with Lamb (stewed in diverse ways) and salad. As possibly the world's leading microwaved Jacket Potato cook I never did divine how much she learned from the Demo or how much she would actually cook at home.

In honour of her making the long, and some might suggest over generous trip I felt the need to reciprocate some way, so we went to the Castlemartyr Resort Hotel. It was without doubt the most luxurious I have ever entered let alone stayed in. Touch screens everywhere, walk in showers that would fit a football team, individual lighting for the bath!!

The cost was reasonable for such an experience but I was glad that I had already booked Pizza for our dinner. Breakfast was superb. Whilst I worked my way through grilled liver with mushroom, tomato and saute potatoes Mrs K had herbed potato crepes with smoked salmon. This was a departure from her usual Full Irish and 10 tons of toast and is because she is pleased with her significant weight loss over the period in which I have not been feeding her.

Now if I say good effort, it shows, keep it up I will be in trouble and may not get collected at the end of the course. If, on the other hand I state that I did not notice I am equally unlikely to be collected. So I will settle for you still look lovely, and pray.

The day did not end entirely smoothly. After weeks of sun beating down from deep blue sky, late swallows still having one for the road and the occasional impala skittering through the Ballymaloe gardens I advised Mrs K that the weekend would be fine. Dressed in her summer finest, only two jumpers and a body warmer, she got caught in a massive monsoon just as we left the car for a pizza and was still squelching some hours later as we got back to the hotel.

The best laid plans of mice and men gang oft aglae as Rabbie Burns said. Bill you bas***d as Mrs K said