What a slice of cake can do

It’s not really about the cake.

But don’t get me wrong — we do talk about it a lot in the Spinal Injury team! There are rotas, lists of favourite cakes, trial bakes and last-minute lemon drizzle rescues. But behind every sponge or banana loaf, there’s something far more important happening: connection.

Horatio’s Garden charity nurtures the wellbeing of people after spinal injury in beautiful, vibrant sanctuaries within the heart of NHS spinal injury centres. We’ve been volunteering at Horatio’s Garden Stoke Mandeville and Horatio’s Garden London & South East for a while now, and over time we’ve introduced cake sessions to both gardens which is something we all really look forward to. Our cake sessions are exactly what it says on the tin – a regular afternoon event where everyone in the spinal injury centre can enjoy a slice of cake that the BBK team has made and socialise over a nice cuppa.

There’s laughter, sunshine (sometimes), and a fair bit of icing sugar in places it probably shouldn’t be. But most of all, there are people — kind, funny, brave people — each on their own very personal journey of recovery and adjustment, often far from home for long periods of time, sometimes unsure of what the next step looks like.

Cake just happens to be the way we say hello.

“This one’s for me?”

When thinking about our cake sessions, there’s a moment I always come back to. I had two cakes that day — chocolate and lemon drizzle — both vegan. I’d been trying out more plant-based baking, not just because it’s trendy, but because it matters. You’d be surprised how often someone lights up just because they’ve been considered.

I offered the options to a woman we hadn’t met before, and she hesitated.

“I’m vegan,” she said, a bit sheepish, maybe already preparing for disappointment.

When I told her both cakes were vegan, her face completely changed. “That never happens,” she said. “I never get to have the nice cakes.”

That stuck with me. It wasn’t about the cake — it was about feeling included. Remembered. Valued. It’s such a small thing, but it meant something real to her. And to me.

We listen — then we bake

We take cake requests seriously.

If someone tells us they love banana bread, we’ll try to bring it next time. If someone hasn’t had a decent lemon drizzle in a while, we make a note. If someone’s gluten-free or needs a low-sugar option, we’ll go back to the mixing bowl and figure it out.

It’s our own little feedback loop of joy—someone smiles, we bake, they smile again, and so it goes.

And it’s not just for the sake of it — it’s because we know when you’re going through spinal cord injury rehabilitation with its many challenges, even something small can lift your whole day.

When someone has just finished their physio session or is testing a new splint, a treat can feel like a special celebration — something just for them.

And oh my, our baking skills have improved so much since we first started.

And there’s still a friendly rivalry when one of us turns up with a showstopper. We’ve even had impromptu bake-offs and when someone in the garden gets involved in judging and picks a favourite, it’s always a good laugh. That little spark of joy is contagious.

A way into the garden

There are moments when we meet people who’ve only just arrived — still adjusting, still tired, still figuring out the new routine. They don’t know the garden yet, or what it can offer. But a piece of cake can open up that first conversation; it can quite literally open the door to the garden. A warm hello and a homemade cake can help settle the nerves.

“Did you know there’s a garden just outside?”

“There’s a live music event coming up next week — you should come!”

“There’s someone else here who said they used to love baking too.”

That first slice often leads to something more.

One man remembered us from day one. He said it helped him settle, helped him feel more at ease. He’s been enjoying the garden ever since, often with his wife beside him. That kind of feedback means everything.

Bringing the garden upstairs

At the National Spinal Injuries Centre in Stoke Mandeville Hospital, some people are in rooms far from a window, and wouldn’t know there’s a garden outside unless someone told them. We try to be that someone.

We’ll bring stories of what’s blooming, who we’ve seen in the garden recently, what activities are coming up. We’ll invite them to come — in their beds, if they are not quite ready or able to venture out in their wheelchairs. We know how important fresh air, soothing sounds of nature and those warmer rays of sun as well as a bit of company can be.

One day, we spoke to someone who had just arrived after a long stay in another hospital. This person said: “I’d forgotten what real cake tastes like.”

That made me laugh — but it also made me proud.

Growing something good

This whole thing started as a small gesture, but it’s become something bigger. We’ve grown as bakers (some of us from absolute beginners), but we’ve also grown in how we listen, how we care, and how we show up for people.

And we’ve seen how something as simple as a slice of cake — chosen with care, made with a bit of love, served with a smile — can open doors, start conversations, and remind someone that they’re not alone.

So no, it’s not really about the cake. But it’s amazing what a slice can do.