She is expecting me to make the soup I promised I’d make for when she comes home late from the long pointless meeting and has to chat with the Slovakian lady with the lady Macbeth hair; so I do, all sorts of stuff goes in and is salted and relished but gets too big for the pan so I search for another but give up until a couple of guys opposite say go upstairs there’s one there so I get one and that’s that

You come home and I take the soup; you eat but before all this I’m teaching a boy who won’t behave at all. I’ve had this one so many times, years and years of it, the out of control kid who just can’t be scared, won’t back down, has no fear and you know what – I don’t blame him one bit. The soup’s too salty. Fiona. Quote.

 

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