My mum is one of the coolest woman alive and she has no idea

My little sister’s getting married in six months’ time – to the day. Hyping it up, she and I jump around the bosomy kitchen, over-excited and squealy whilst the groom-in-waiting, Si, watches on, conspicuously polite. A quiet voice reaches us from the mother-figure, sink-side. “You can get a long way away in that time, Si.”

“I need therapy” says Mumma, once again bemoaning her not wholly successful integration into English countryside life. I find myself (inexplicably, unaware of a penchant for c. 2001 antipodean hits) screeching in reply “That girl needs therapy! Crazy as a coconut!” Who knows. With furrowed brow and quick as a dart the mother-figure declares “Coconuts aren’t crazy. Those oyster mushrooms – they’re crazy.”


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