Epic Tales Online

Epic Storytime: My Cake, Not Yours!

September 07, 2020 Epic Tales Season 2 Episode 2
Epic Tales Online
Epic Storytime: My Cake, Not Yours!
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Epic Tales Online
Epic Storytime: My Cake, Not Yours!
Sep 07, 2020 Season 2 Episode 2
Epic Tales

The Epic Storytime Podcast is back! Be the first to hear the full stories begun each week at epictales.co.uk – read by fabulous voice actors from across the Interweb.

Since 13th September is Roald Dahl Day, we're celebrating the iconic children's author with a folk tale from his home town of Great Missenden! Dahl was almost certainly aware of the deliciously horrid "hero" of this tale; maybe she will inspire the creativity of your children as much as she inspired him?

This story is adapted from a European folk tale by Chip Colquhoun, and read by David Ault (davidault.co.uk).

Illustrated by Erica Terry-Rose.

For easy and fun ways to link this story to a wide variety of learning outcomes including science and numeracy, make sure you also listen to our Epic Learning podcast. Find all our podcasts at epictales.co.uk – along with further storytelling and learning resources, including storytelling videos and creative challenges for your children.

After you've listened to this podcast, please leave us a review – we'd love to know what you think!

This audio is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial 4.0 Licence.

Show Notes Transcript

The Epic Storytime Podcast is back! Be the first to hear the full stories begun each week at epictales.co.uk – read by fabulous voice actors from across the Interweb.

Since 13th September is Roald Dahl Day, we're celebrating the iconic children's author with a folk tale from his home town of Great Missenden! Dahl was almost certainly aware of the deliciously horrid "hero" of this tale; maybe she will inspire the creativity of your children as much as she inspired him?

This story is adapted from a European folk tale by Chip Colquhoun, and read by David Ault (davidault.co.uk).

Illustrated by Erica Terry-Rose.

For easy and fun ways to link this story to a wide variety of learning outcomes including science and numeracy, make sure you also listen to our Epic Learning podcast. Find all our podcasts at epictales.co.uk – along with further storytelling and learning resources, including storytelling videos and creative challenges for your children.

After you've listened to this podcast, please leave us a review – we'd love to know what you think!

This audio is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial 4.0 Licence.

The Epic Tales Storytime Podcast presents... MY CAKE NOT YOURS Adapted from a European folk tale by Chip Colquhoun; read by David Ault.

David Ault:

Nobody liked the woman at the start of this story, because she never gave them a reason to. She didn’t like people. The only reason she ever left her home was to go shopping and she hated it. If her cupboards could have magically provided all the food she would ever need, so she never had to go outside her house ever again, she might have been happy. But they didn’t, so she certainly wasn’t happy. Everyone else in her village of Great Missenden would have been happy too, because the woman spread gloom and misery wherever she went. She went around in a bright yellow raincoat with a bright purple hat, and if you didn’t live in Great Missenden you might think these bright colours meant you were looking at a happy and jolly person. But if she so much as noticed you, she would shout at you with a horrible screechy voice something like… “What’re you doing?!” “Wha’do you want?!” “Why don’t you just go home?!” She even said these things to the shopkeepers as she was buying her ingredients. The woman wasn’t very good at fixing things. Because she didn’t like people, she never asked anyone to come round to fix her house either. Put together, these things meant that her house was falling apart. She had holes in her roof, but she never called a roofer; whenever it rained, there were puddles all over her house. She had holes in her waterpipes, but she never called a plumber; even when it didn’t rain, there were puddles all over her house. She had holes in her windows, but… You get the picture. All this water around her house meant that the woman never took off her bright yellow raincoat nor her bright purple hat. She wore them all the time outdoors and indoors, daytime and nighttime. That’s right she wore her bright yellow raincoat and her bright purple hat in bed as well. Now that I’ve told you all this, you might be surprised that the woman even bothered to go shopping. Wouldn’t she just grow her own vegetables in her garden and eat those? As a matter of fact, that’s what she did. But there was still one thing she loved to do more than anything else, which meant she still had to go to the shop. This woman loved to bake cakes. Every morning, the first thing she did after waking up was go and put the oven on. Remember, she never took off her bright yellow raincoat nor her bright purple hat so she didn’t need to bother with anything like getting dressed or having a shower. Well maybe she needed to shower… But she never did. She would bake herself some small cupcakes for breakfast. Then she would bake herself some chunky scones for lunch. And all day she would work on a magnificent tower cake to scoff down for dinner. Those tower cakes truly were incredible. Imagine the best cake you can, and you can be sure the woman would bake it. But, of course, she wouldn’t let you eat it. The only person who ever ate her cakes was her. By now, you may be wondering, “What was this woman’s name?” But of course, because she didn’t like people, she never told anyone who asked so she never knew. It probably won’t surprise you that the woman didn’t ever have visitors knocking on her door. So it came as a huge surprise to her when, at the start of this story, there was a knock on her door. It was a particularly rainy day, and the woman would have been very wet and cold if it wasn’t for her bright yellow coat and her bright purple hat. She splashed through the puddles in her living room with a deep scowl on her face. Who dared interrupt her baking in the middle of such miserable weather? Who dared interrupt her baking? Who dared interrupt her?! On the other side of the door was a man with a long beard, long hair, and a long coat wrapped tightly around his body. He looked thoroughly soaked though he was shivering so hard that the woman could hear his teeth rattling, and his skin was turning blue. He looked like he would drop down dead from the cold any second. He asked, “Please, dear lady. I was just passing through your village, and I got caught in the storm. Please could you give me some shelter from this bitterly cold rain?” What do you think the woman would say to that? As she opened her mouth, though, the woman suddenly had a scary thought. What if she told the man to go away, and he went away and died? Then there would be lots of knocks on the door. First, whoever found him, wanting to ask her for help. Second, the doctor, wanting to ask for some warm water. Third, the police officer, wanting to ask if she knew anything about the man. Fourth, more police officers, wanting to arrest her for not looking after the man when he needed help so desperately. The woman’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t want this man in her house. But she didn’t want anyone else in her house either and she certainly didn’t like the idea of moving to a prison. So, on this one occasion, she decided to let the man inside. He gave her a huge smile and said “Thank you!” as he stepped through the door. But the woman slammed the door and said, “Just mind you don’t die while you’re here! Sit there, shut up, and don’t move. Soon as the rain’s gone, you can get!” The man nodded obediently, and sat in the chair she was pointing at. Satisfied, the woman began striding back to her kitchen. But as she opened the kitchen door… …the man caught a whiff of the scones she was baking for her lunch, and said, “Oh, dear lady! That smells delicious! I haven’t eaten anything all day, so I’m famished if I don’t have something to eat soon, I might die. Please may I try one of your scones to eat?” What do you think the woman would say to that? She spun around to face him; her face was twisted with a wild snarl. But as she opened her mouth, the woman suddenly had another scary thought. What if she didn’t give the man anything to eat, and he went and died on her chair? Then there would be lots of knocks on the door. First, his friends, wanting to find him. Second, the doctor, wanting to carry him away. Third, the police officers, wanting to arrest her for not looking after the man when he needed help so desperately… The woman’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t want to give this man a scone. But she didn’t want anyone else in her house either and she certainly didn’t like the idea of moving to a prison. So she spat in all directions as she said, “Fine. Wait here.” She went back into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her. Then she leaned on the kitchen side and squeezed her hands and her face as tight as they would go. What a cheek that man was! Coming here and threatening to die in her house…! He didn’t really deserve a scone. She took out the tray of scones from the oven and looked at them. The man certainly didn’t deserve a big one. She took out a tape measure and started working out which of the scones was the smallest; she’d give that one to the shivering rascal in her lounge. She popped the small scone onto a plate. As she looked at it, though, she thought even that scone was too big. Her eyes suddenly opened wide. She knew what to do! She could cut a slice out of the scone, like you might cut a slice of birthday cake. Then she could squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze the slice until it was the shape of a whole scone. The woman grinned; she was a genius! The man wouldn’t know any difference: he would probably think all the scones were that size! So she took her cake knife and cut a slice from the scone. Then she took the slice and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze… But that’s when the weirdness started. As the woman tried to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze, the tiny slice of scone began to grow… and grow… and grow and grow and grow… …until it looked about the same size as all the other scones on the tray! The woman stared at her hands in astonishment. This had never happened before! Had she developed a super power? Had her hands become magic? Was she now able to make cakes grow just by touching them?! The idea made the woman smile with more glee than she had ever felt in her life she nearly even laughed! But then she remembered the man in her living room. Now that the scone had grown, it was once again too big to give to him. He only deserved a tiny scone. She needed to cut a slice and squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze until it was the shape of a whole one. So she took the cake knife again, and cut another slice. Then she took the slice and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze… But, just as before, the tiny slice of scone began to grow… and grow… and grow and grow and grow… …until it looked about the same size as all the other scones on the tray! Again, the woman stood back in astonishment. She’d done it again! Even though she’d been trying not to, the magic had still worked…! She smiled; this new power was going to make her baking so much easier! She could even stop going to the shops…! But then she remembered the man in her living room again. Because the scone had grown again, it was again too big to give to him. He only deserved a tiny scone. She needed to cut a slice and squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze until it was the shape of a whole one. This time she decided to try harder to turn the magic power off. She took the cake knife again, and cut another slice. Then she took the slice and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze… And, just as before, the tiny slice of scone began to grow. And grow… and grow… …and grow and grow! Until it looked about the same size as all the other scones on the tray. Now the woman stood back in frustration and looked at her hands. The magic was wonderful, true. But the man in her living room only deserved a tiny scone. She needed to cut a slice and try even harder to switch the magic off and squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze until it was the shape of a whole one. She took the cake knife again, and cut another slice. Then she took the slice and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze… And, yet again, the tiny slice of scone began to grow. And grow and grow and grow until it looked about the same size as all the other scones on the tray. Again, the woman stood back in frustration and looked at her bare hands. Aha! Her bare hands! Maybe the magic wouldn’t work if she wore some gloves? She took her cooking gloves out from her apron, and then cut off a new slice. Then she took the slice with her gloved hands, and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze… …and, yet again, the tiny slice of scone began to grow and grow and grow and grow! Until it looked about the same size as all the other scones on the… Oh. I’m so sorry. I’ve just realised: I’ve been a bad storyteller. This whole time, I’ve had my story muddled. I’m so very sorry. You see, I told you that the woman took each slice, and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze and the slice began to grow and grow and grow and grow. But actually, that’s not quite the truth. What I should have said was: The woman took each slice, and began to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze and the woman got smaller and smaller and smaller…! That’s right! It wasn’t the scones getting bigger and bigger! It might have looked that way to the woman, but to the man from outside it was obvious that the woman was getting smaller and smaller and smaller until she was just a bit smaller than your thumb. The man from outside, by the way, could see all of this because he wasn’t sitting in the lounge anymore. Instead, he had gone and opened the door to the kitchen to see what was going on. Or rather, to check that his magic spell had worked. Because it wasn’t the woman who was magic it was the stranger. He was actually an angel in disguise, who had been sent to see if there was any love at all in this woman’s heart. And the moment she cut the smallest slice and tried to squeeze and pat and pat and squeeze it into the shape of a whole scone, he’d known that there wasn’t any love in her heart at all. So the angel had used his magic to punish the woman; he cast a spell turning her into… …a slug. So if you ever take a walk through the forests of Great Missenden, you might well find this old woman hiding there. It will be very obvious if you do. She’s still wearing her bright yellow raincoat and her bright purple hat…

The Epic Tales Storytime Podcast has been produced by Epic Tales. The copyright in the script, music, and audio editing is held by Epic Tales. No part of this recording may be reproduced in any way without the express permission of Epic Tales but we warmly encourage you to share the story in your own words with as many of your friends as you can. And please review this podcast on your favourite podcast app we'd love to know what you think of it! Right now, though, it only remains for us to say "Cheerio, and we hope to hear your story soon." So... Cheerio! And we hope to hear your story soon...!