For the fun of squeezing a lemon in my hand, then picking out the pips from the icing.
For the twinkly effect of iridescent glitter and silver balls on a lemon cake, then picking off the balls before eating (to preserve teeth).
For the pleasure of using the same old pressed-glass cake-stand to make a Thursday cake look posh.
For my friend who makes me laugh, encourages my vintage tablecloth habit, and never says no to a slice of cake.
For the excuse of spending time in a warm kitchen when I should be working in a draughty study.
For the smell of vanilla extract which I am tempted to wear as perfume and dab behind my ears.
For the delight of seeing Tom's delight when I make his favourite chocolate buns as a surprise. And the greater delight when I give him a bowl of leftover chocolate butter icing to supplement the already generous filling.
For the pretty patterns you can make on a work surface when you sift icing sugar over cakes on a cake rack (but not for the stickness that remains left even after wiping).
For the chance to scrape the bowl and eat the mixture.
For the happy memories.
But most of all I bake for the pleasure of eating cake.