Saturday was a fun Cake and Biscuits party for a group of lovely children, and I have to say, it went brilliantly. The children had a fantastic time, everything ran smoothly, and I came home feeling really pleased with how well it all went.

The only problem?

It was 29 degrees.

By the end of the party, I felt like I'd been baked alongside the cakes. Still, I had a moment of rare organisation and decided to wash everything up immediately instead of leaving it until later. At the time, it seemed like a genius idea. Future Charlotte would thank me, and for once she actually did.

I had some spare cookie dough left over, so naturally I added Smarties and made a batch of cookies. They looked perfect. Golden, colourful, delicious. Then came the moment of transferring them into a Tupperware container.

Disaster.

One slip and they went flying all over the kitchen floor.

Honestly though, after spending hours baking in 29-degree heat, watching your freshly baked Smartie cookies launch themselves across the floor is enough to make you question all your life choices.

The heat hasn't helped with sleep either. Night after night I've been tossing and turning, and by Saturday night my fibromyalgia pain was in full force. Everything hurt. I could hardly move.

Sunday morning wasn't much better. I woke up exhausted and noticed my thumb, the one I had the cortisone injection in, was hurting again. It felt as though I'd never had the injection at all.

Which brings me to another story.

Last week, I turned up for what I thought was a one-to-one physiotherapy appointment. I arrived expecting a nice chat about my symptoms and a personalised plan. Instead, I found myself in an exercise class.

An exercise class.

Needless to say, I won't be going back.

Now I'm supposed to be having a cortisone injection, but it turns out I can only have it if I've attended six out of twelve physiotherapy classes. As it stands, I've only managed five, and I've just cancelled the last one because every time I do the exercises my fibromyalgia flares up and makes me feel worse. To top it all off, when one of the physios suggested I join a gym, you can probably guess how well that suggestion went down, and you must have read that saga in a previous blog.

But after seeing how quickly the relief disappeared from my thumb, I'm wondering what the point is. I was told the thumb injection could keep me pain-free for six months. It hasn't. So why would I rush to have exactly the same treatment in my knee if the result might be exactly the same?

Maybe it will work differently. Maybe it won't.

Sunday was supposed to be a quieter day. I was still feeling exhausted from the heat, the lack of sleep and the fibromyalgia flare, but I knew I needed to start preparing for next Saturday's party.

Luckily, I decided to double-check the booking confirmation before getting started.

I was literally moments away from making enough cookie dough for ten children when I realised this week's party wasn't a Cake and Biscuits party at all.

It was a Cake Pop and Edible Art party.

That could have been interesting.

There I was, ready to weigh out ingredients, get covered in flour and spend the afternoon making cookie dough that nobody had actually ordered. Thankfully, a quick look at the paperwork saved me from myself.

Honestly though, running several businesses, managing hospital appointments, looking after my daughter, keeping on top of paperwork and trying to remember what day of the week it is means it's a miracle I turn up at the right venue with the right ingredients most of the time.

So instead of making cookie dough, I spent the afternoon checking stock, counting cake pop sticks, making sure I had enough chocolate, sprinkles and edible decorations, and getting everything organised for the following weekend.

It's amazing how one quick check can save hours of unnecessary work.

By Wednesday, things got even hotter.

The temperature reached 37 degrees with 90% humidity, which basically felt like someone had wrapped London in a giant damp blanket.

I had my pre-assessment appointment for my upcoming operation and, for once, I made a sensible decision before leaving the house.

I packed my fan.

Best decision of the entire week.

I arrived at the hospital expecting air conditioning, cool corridors and some relief from the heat. Instead, the place was absolutely boiling. The waiting room felt like a greenhouse. People were fanning themselves with appointment letters, drinking water and looking like they might melt into the chairs at any moment.

Meanwhile, I was sitting there with my little fan feeling rather smug.

The nurse went through all the usual questions, my medical history, medications, allergies and what feels like the same forms I've filled in a hundred times before. By the end of it, I was just grateful I hadn't turned into a puddle on the floor.

The preparations for Saturday's Cake Pop and Edible Art party were also well underway.

With temperatures soaring, I had another thing to worry about...

Chocolate.

I'd arranged for a delivery of chocolate for the party, and in this weather it didn't stand a chance. So I left a large ice bag in my outside cupboard along with a note for the delivery driver, hoping they would actually read the message.

If they didn't, I could end up with several kilos of melted chocolate by the time I got home.

Honestly though, running children's cooking parties in a heatwave should come with danger money.

Instead of worrying about ingredients, recipes and party bags, I was monitoring chocolate like it was a critically ill patient.

Saturday finally arrived, and it was time for the Cake Pop and Edible Art party.

Thankfully, this family had something I can only describe as pure luxury... a proper air conditioning unit! Their lounge and kitchen were open plan, and although I was running the party in the hallway, the cool air reached me perfectly.

What a difference it made.

No melting chocolate.

No melting Charlotte.

The children were absolutely adorable. They made their cake pops, decorated their edible art and proudly showed off everything they'd created. As they were leaving, a few of them told me it was "the best party ever."

Bless them... they're only six years old, but hearing those words after nearly seventeen years of running Kids Cooking Parties still makes me smile. Moments like that remind me why I love doing what I do, and why I’m putting my parties into a book, because even though I’m exhausted, I want Kids Cooking Parties to last forever.

Later that evening, my daughter went off to a party of her own, so my partner and I decided to pop down to our local for a well-earned drink.

We'd only just started to relax when one of the barmen came outside and announced, "It's forecast to rain at nine o'clock."

I checked my weather app and showed him the screen.

"Look... heavy rain is literally on its way."

He smiled and said, "Nah... it won't come."

Well...

It did.

And when I say it rained, I mean the heavens absolutely opened.

Within seconds everyone was grabbing their drinks and making a run for the covered seating area. Thankfully, we managed to squeeze in under shelter and waited for the downpour to pass.

Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, it was over.

The sun came back out, and stretching across the sky was the most beautiful rainbow.

After days of relentless heat, sleepless nights and temperatures that had felt completely out of control, it somehow felt like the weather was finally taking a deep breath.

Honestly though, I never thought I'd be so happy to see rain.

Especially when it's only June.