Mums
Mrs Liveinabin tells us: My mum told me to eat my vegetables, or I wouldn't get any pudding. I'm 32 and told her I could do what I like. I ate my vegetables. Tell us about mums.
( , Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:21)
Mrs Liveinabin tells us: My mum told me to eat my vegetables, or I wouldn't get any pudding. I'm 32 and told her I could do what I like. I ate my vegetables. Tell us about mums.
( , Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:21)
« Go Back
My mum made a cake once
Fuck knows how she managed it. All afternoon there had been much clanging and banging and whirring, and that weird rustly sifting noise you get from paper bags filled with sugar and flour. And then the final solid thump of the oven door closing, and her emerging from the kitchen, beaming like a pixie.
Later that day, when the main course had been eaten and the plates carried away, she brought in her construction on a big round plate, and us three hungry sons sat round it, licking lips and generally salivating all over the place. It was a fruit loaf.
My oldest brother, at the age of 20, was given the honour of cutting it. He picked up the knife, steadied himself at the table, and tentatively poked at the crust. It crumbled slightly, but didn't yield. So he pressed harder. And harder. Then started to worm and twist the knife, digging it into the loaf like a screwdriver, but it wouldn't budge; the cake was absolutely solid. Beads of sweat broke out on his face from the strain until eventually there was a snap, the blade pinged off and the handle of the knife came away in his hand. I laughed, my brother swore, my mum's bottom lip trembled and the dog looked on, hungry and bemused.
After the cajoling and gibes, and frustrated retorts from my mother (pun intended), we took the cake outside to destroy it. The family car (albeit a Metro) happily rolled over it, a hammer knocked a corner of it and the dog could do little more damage to it than making it reek of dog drool. It now sits on my brother's garage workbench, 18 years later, with a series of precise holes drilled in. It's a home-made oven-baked screwdriver-holder, just like Mum used to make.
( , Fri 12 Feb 2010, 8:02, 6 replies)
Fuck knows how she managed it. All afternoon there had been much clanging and banging and whirring, and that weird rustly sifting noise you get from paper bags filled with sugar and flour. And then the final solid thump of the oven door closing, and her emerging from the kitchen, beaming like a pixie.
Later that day, when the main course had been eaten and the plates carried away, she brought in her construction on a big round plate, and us three hungry sons sat round it, licking lips and generally salivating all over the place. It was a fruit loaf.
My oldest brother, at the age of 20, was given the honour of cutting it. He picked up the knife, steadied himself at the table, and tentatively poked at the crust. It crumbled slightly, but didn't yield. So he pressed harder. And harder. Then started to worm and twist the knife, digging it into the loaf like a screwdriver, but it wouldn't budge; the cake was absolutely solid. Beads of sweat broke out on his face from the strain until eventually there was a snap, the blade pinged off and the handle of the knife came away in his hand. I laughed, my brother swore, my mum's bottom lip trembled and the dog looked on, hungry and bemused.
After the cajoling and gibes, and frustrated retorts from my mother (pun intended), we took the cake outside to destroy it. The family car (albeit a Metro) happily rolled over it, a hammer knocked a corner of it and the dog could do little more damage to it than making it reek of dog drool. It now sits on my brother's garage workbench, 18 years later, with a series of precise holes drilled in. It's a home-made oven-baked screwdriver-holder, just like Mum used to make.
( , Fri 12 Feb 2010, 8:02, 6 replies)
Hmmmm
Did she mistake concrete for flour? It's easily done. I knew something was up when my garage fell down as soon as it rained.
( , Fri 12 Feb 2010, 11:07, closed)
Did she mistake concrete for flour? It's easily done. I knew something was up when my garage fell down as soon as it rained.
( , Fri 12 Feb 2010, 11:07, closed)
I really want this to win.
This just had me crying with laughter at my desk. Clicked.
( , Fri 12 Feb 2010, 14:31, closed)
This just had me crying with laughter at my desk. Clicked.
( , Fri 12 Feb 2010, 14:31, closed)
« Go Back