Enid Blyton and me

As I drove along Ledborough Lane in Beaconsfield on Sunday, on the way to my nephew's wedding in nearby Penn, I was reminded of a revelation made to me by my mother, in that same lane, many years earlier. 
"Enid Blyton used to live along here. You were born in her house."
Once I had overcome the shock that any sensitive author would experience, that of discovering that he was linked to the creator of Noddy, I had reflected further and realised that now the previous thirty eight years of my life were at last beginning to make sense.
So on Sunday, I looked for a blue plaque on the house but found none. Naturally I would have expected it to feature the famous author who had been born there rather than the one who had merely lived there.

So here is a picture of the wedding cake, instead.

Richard and Louise's wedding cake. Baked by their Aunt Margaret.