Our Noble Selves

Flynn and Miss Ogilvie, referred to as Maud later, were invited as observers to a blind judging of the Festival Cake, meaning they did not participate in the evaluation. The event was held in secret (in camera) at the Royal Society of Arts in London on an unspecified date in 2026. The cakes were prepared by Denholm’s team of suitable women in a test kitchen provided by Lyons, a well-known British food company. Five judges, including an Italian sous chef, a journalist from Woman’s Realm, and a man who wrote obituaries for the Evening Standard, evaluated the cakes without knowing their creators. The judging was described as a solemn affair, with the judges seated around a large mahogany table, served by a young waitress from Lyons’ Corner House restaurant. The atmosphere was formal, and some judges appeared uncomfortable, with one commenting that bacon and eggs might have been more appropriate for the early hour.

The cakes entered were mostly simple iced or decorated sponge cakes, typical of what a home baker might create. However, one cake stood out as extravagant and elaborate, resembling a baroque cathedral dome decorated with angelica, sugared almonds, glace cherries, and a pennant bearing the Festival emblem. This cake was named II Duomo by the judges, who awarded it first place. The judges included a woman who wrote a Handy Hints book, who provided Flynn with technical details about the winning cake, mistakenly assuming his facial scars were from a traffic accident. Another judge, a journalist from Woman’s Realm, escorted Flynn and Maud out of the room after the judging. The judges’ choices were met with skepticism, as the winning cake was seen as overly complex and impractical for home bakers, with Flynn’s Presbyterian mother described as favoring simpler cakes like seed cake or Madeira.

The winning cake was created by Mitzi Blinkhorn, a name that Flynn and others found unusual, with the Boy remarking, What kind of a moniker is that? Flynn questioned whether the judges’ decision was influenced by external factors, such as connections to Mr. Dangerfield, a figure mentioned as a potential manipulator behind the scenes. Maud Ogilvie speculated that the decision might have been part of a conspiracy, though Flynn dismissed the idea as hyperbolic. Denholm, upon hearing the result, expressed disapproval, calling Mitzi Blinkhorn an awful woman. The judges’ decision was described as a joke or a deliberate choice of the worst cake, rather than the best. Flynn wondered if the entire event was a farce, while Maud suggested that nothing is ever just something, implying deeper motives behind seemingly simple events.

Back at the office, Flynn, Maud, Evans, Denholm, and the Boy discussed the judging results and other Festival-related matters. Evans, a fiscally conservative employee, expressed disbelief at the extravagant spending on Festival pageants, including £50, 16 shillings, and 6 pence on wigs and other questionable expenses. He criticized the pageants for promoting a sanitized version of history, calling them corn dollies and fair maidens skipping round maypoles. The Boy, a younger colleague, asked what the future could be made of if not the past, to which Flynn responded with puzzlement. Evans also mentioned Major Lawrence du Garde Peach as a potential pageantmaster, describing him as fitting for the role. Maud Ogilvie and Flynn engaged in a brief conversation about her name and their working relationship, with Flynn noting her diabetic condition and her enjoyment of biscuits and sweets.

After the morning’s events, Flynn felt unwell from the cake he had tasted and wandered through London, ending up in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He reflected on his childhood memories of cycling with his brother during school holidays, visiting places like Pocklington, Hutton-le-Hole, and Scarborough. These trips were filled with simple pleasures like hot salty chips, ginger beer, and hard-boiled eggs with salt. Flynn recalled a particularly memorable high tea at the Black Swan in Helmsley, paid for by his brother’s paper round. Though they were not particularly close as children, these adventures were among their best times together. Flynn’s musings were interrupted by the chime of Big Ben, signaling the hour, and he left the daffodils behind, ending his moment of reflection.