And I didn't but I sure as heck do now. My parents were the ultimate she's-way-out-of-your-league couple. They met in their first year of University, my mum's boyfriend had cheated on her with a much older, unattractive woman he'd told her she was good looks and nothing else or something along those lines. I'm pretty sure it was more poetic than that. She'd sat down on a bench, waterfalls of mascara tears falling from her eyes. Next to her on the bench was a fat kid eating a finger bun, he turned to my mum and said shyly; "Fingerbun?"my mum nodded and teared a bit off. After a while she croaked in the midst of tears; "This is really good." The kid said, "There's a really good place where you can get them." "Where?" my mum asked. He looked into her eyes, grinned and answered; "My place." The rest was history. Inspired by mum, my dad shortly after dropped out of his BA at Uni to do what he really loved: Baking. By 19, he released his first cookbook and became a celebrity pastry chef. The two married when they were at the ripe age of 20 while my mum was still at Uni. Apart from Dad being mistaken for the best man at least a dozen times, it was the perfect day. Four years later they had me, and six years after they had hell in a minions t-shirt, my little sister, Nigella (yes she was named after that Nigella.)
YOU ARE READING
Cs get baked beans
Ficção GeralAll Harold wants to do is come up with a creative piece of writing that isn't cliche town. But how far will he go to get above a C-?
