The pot was bubbling away, one worked whilst the other lazily drank some wine looking on the other’s industry. The weekly meal where his dad would come around was a high point of the week to catch up even through the stress of meal prep under a watchful gaze.
“Oy vey! Too much salt, my kishkies will not handle that, Mashugana!” said Dad
“It was just a sprinkle of salt, your kidneys will be fine and you are not Jewish!!”
“EEE lad, Tha knows that too much salt wilt be bad f’me. When I was down pit…”
“You’re not a miner, or from Yorkshire, for fuck sake Dad you were born in Luton.”
“Och! …”
“No. No! No! No!. Not Scottish!”
“Yakky Da Boyo.”
“Ok if Mr Jones next door heard this I’m sure your representation of Welsh would be highly offensive.”
“Ich bein ein berliner!”
“You are not German, or Jfk … you are not even a doughnut. The stew is cooked. Lets just stop and eat.”