"Oh God, what even is that, you stupid woman?"
I flip back to the first page of the cookery book, double checking that it is actually a book which contains recipes, and not a rocket science manual.
It may as well be though, for all the sense it makes to me.
I've brought this unnecessary stress entirely on myself, and deep down I know it isn't anyone else's fault, but it's easier to blame someone - or even something - else.
Things had been going swimmingly up until this monumental set-back.
Dad and Brett seem to actually be getting along, chatting amiably about the golden era of Punk music, and Brett entertains him with tales of how his classical music-loving father despaired over his unwavering obsession with The s*x Pistols.
Brett is perfectly charming and very smooth. Not in a
