The chocolate cake that I made yesterday would have used up half my weekly sugar ration, two weeks' chocolate and butter, and nearly two months' worth of jam (not to mention two eggs which weren't always available).

And I'm sure I've got through more than 2oz tea washing it down.

I dusted it with even more sugar to hide the slightly-overdone bits around the edge.

In 1941, my baking efforts would be a domestic tragedy. Or possibly even a crime. You could be fined for throwing bread crusts out for the birds.

A chocolate cake with a cracked top was probably a hanging offence.