If you’d told me a few years ago that my love of cake would lead to creating a whole community café in Blyth, Northumberland, I’d have probably laughed (with a mouthful of cake, obviously). But here we are — and honestly? It’s turned out better than I ever could have imagined.
Baking has always been in my blood.
I grew up in a house where the smell of freshly baked cakes was just… normal. None of that artificial nonsense either — proper ingredients, proper flavour. Even as a kid, I knew what good cake was meant to taste like. No preservatives. No dry disappointments. Just real, honest bakes that hit differently.
As I got older, baking became my thing. I’d bake for friends, coffee mornings, theatre events — basically any excuse to get the mixer out. I got a bit obsessed, in the best way. I dove into the science, experimenting with textures, flavours, and tweaks until everything tasted just right (and yes, taste-testing is still my favourite bit).
My brownie recipe took over ten years to perfect. I’m that person.
But I was also that person who’d sit in a café with a slice of cake that looked amazing… and tasted like cardboard. Dry, bland, disappointing. I’d sit there thinking, I could do better than this with my eyes shut. I just wanted good cake!
Turns out, that little thought planted a seed. 🌱
Then life changed. My son got ill just before Covid, and I had to close my childcare business. While he was in and out of hospital, Then the world slowed down due to COVID. Like the rest of the world…. I baked. I perfected recipes. Tried bakes I’d dreamed about for years. Basically turned my kitchen into Bake Off (minus the tent and the looming stare of Paul Hollywood)….although I would like a Paul Hollywood seal of approval!
And somewhere in the middle of all that whisking and stress-baking, L of a Bake was born.
But here’s the thing — L of a Bake was never just about the cake (even though, let’s be honest, the cake is ridiculously good).
Because alongside my love of baking, there’s a whole other part of me — the SEN (Special Educational Needs) mam. My boy is everything and he has very complex sen. And after years working in SEN, I was now a SEN mam. Through the years Ive learnt know how tough, lonely, and exhausting that journey can be.
So when I opened my cafe I didn’t just want to open a café. I wanted to create a space.
A space where all people could feel seen and safe.
Where you don’t have to explain…..anything.
Where a tired mam with a sleeping baby can take a much needed breath without judgement and with support.
Where an elderly customer can pop in for a natter.
Where a parent who’s been through the wars can just… be.
No judgment.
No side-eyes.
Just good coffee, homemade cake, and a space to breathe.
And if you want to talk, someone will talk with you. If staff have time, they’re encouraged to take five and chat. And if you’re flying solo? Pull up a chair at someone’s table — chances are, you’ll leave with a new friend.
One of the moments that always hits me right in the heart? And made me catch my breath….
Watching SEN families support each other in the café without me even stepping in.
Strangers connecting. Sharing stories. Offering a knowing nod or a much-needed bit of advice.
It’s not just a café anymore. It’s a little family.
And honestly?
I’m only just getting started.
The cake will always be the star (we use Tynemouth Coffee Company Beans) https://tynemouthcoffee.com, just saying), but L of a Bake is becoming so much more.
I’m building a proper “toolbox” of support for SEN families — workshops, training, resources. Real, practical help. The kind I wish I’d had when I was in the thick of it. Even with my many many years of SEN experience- I still needed support!
We’re even tackling the stuff nobody talks about, like what to do when you’re facing child-on-adult violence. Because families like mine? We deserve more than just survival. We deserve to thrive.
So yes, it all started with cake.
But it turned into community.
And it’s growing into something even bigger than I ever dreamed.
If you’re near Blyth and fancy a slice of something special (and maybe a cheeky brew), come and say hello.
We’re ready for you — cake forks and smiles at the ready.
