Bake sales are guilt-fests

POV of the guilty passerby…


We all notice them, as we rush towards the library; they stand there, with their selection of baked goods and glistening eyes asking you to buy something.

Bake sales. For charity, of course.

Sometimes, or actually, at all times, I walk right past them. Actually, it’s more of a guilty run until I have passed safely through the gates of the library. I’ve done a fine job thus far pretending to have just received an extremely interesting text (or more likely, a Snapchat of cats from my flatmate) that is just too interesting to look up from.

As a foreigner, or more accurately, a Scandinavian, I believe in having a healthy bit of scepticism towards anything from any other culture but my own. Baked goods are no exception. I have found that I have become increasingly nationalistic when it comes to both puddings and baked goods, probably as a result of suffering through catered accommodation my first year. But despite my healthy scepticism, I still feel guilty walking past. The very worst part about library bake sales is the choice of guilt: either the guilt of not supporting a charity, or the guilt of having eaten a cupcake.

Don’t get me wrong; I am not against the consumption of sugar. Actually, if you ever wonder why Tesco is out of strawberry laces (three packs for a pound, people…), it is probably because I have been there before you. I will also admit to devouring such sugary treats in the confined space of my room, usually alone, because we all know that if no one actually sees you consume the sugar, it doesn’t really count. At least not in my book.

Furthermore, I never know any of the people that sell these treats, and the sheer awkwardness of having to walk up to their table, eye the selection, have an unwanted conversation whilst choosing my preferred treat, and then buying it, is just too much to handle. Secondly, if I did buy something, where in the library would I eat it? If I tried bringing it to the second floor, I’d be guaranteed glares from several third and fourth years, or even worse, I could be banished to the ground floor by one of the library staff.

Thus, although the guilt can be all consuming for the two seconds I have to hurry past the bake sales, I must admit, I will probably continue to do so until I graduate (actually, after writing this, I earnestly feel like I should just man up and buy something for the sake of it). Do not forget, though, I like you a lot more, dear bake sale people, than those people who throw flyers at me.

Image courtesy of widelawns.blogspot.com