My turn to cook tonight. The Dreaded One makes a slightly... no totally and completely snarky and unjustified comment about we'd better hurry up because no we don't have plenty of time because you are not factoring in the Lee Faff Factor. I was bit hurt. Me faff?
At home. In the kitchen. I get cracking because of this "Faffing" accusation.
At an unspecified time after I get cracking, I find myself gazing into the middle distance as my mind goes to work on a new project. The project is a song called The Faffing Song, sung to the tune of Nick Cave's The Weeping Song.
"Ann go into the kitchen,
And see Lee faffing there,
Then go into the lounge-room,
Lee is faaaaaff-ing there too...
This is The Faffing Song,
A song in which to faff..."
My creative flow is interrupted by The Dreaded One who has apparently, with her ninja like senses, detected that cooking activity has ceased.
What are you thinking about, Lee?
Best you don't know, I tell her as I get cracking on dinner again.
The Faffing Song though, I have to do this.
And see Lee faffing there,
Then go into the lounge-room,
Lee is faaaaaff-ing there too...
This is The Faffing Song,
A song in which to faff..."
My creative flow is interrupted by The Dreaded One who has apparently, with her ninja like senses, detected that cooking activity has ceased.
What are you thinking about, Lee?
Best you don't know, I tell her as I get cracking on dinner again.
The Faffing Song though, I have to do this.
No comments:
Post a Comment