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It’s been fun living with Laura for the last two months. We get on well, make each other laugh, and I genuinely am in love with her. And its because of this that I’ve felt guilty that she’s been doing all the cooking and the cleaning, whilst I work long hours and come home knackered. So I thought I’d show her I did actually care, even though I didn’t always show it.
I took the day off work to have a lie-in, watch daytime television and then start preparing for what I hoped would be a memorable night for Laura. Rose petals were arranged on and around the bed, wine was at the ready, candles were dotted around the dinner table, and one of Tesco’s finest chickens was roasting away in the oven. Everything was set up for this to be an excellent night.
That was until it became apparent what a moron I had been. Whilst musing over Sky Sports News I decided to check on the chicken that I had put in the oven well over an hour ago, primed for when my beautiful girlfriend returned home from work. I strolled into the kitchen, opened the oven door, bracing myself for that burst of heat to waft up into your face, and felt nothing. The oven in fact was never turned on. This failure to turn a single knob left me with under half an hour to roast a chicken.
If it wasn’t clear by my inability to turn an oven on, I am in fact not a chef. However, I do know that a half-defrosted chicken isn’t going to roast in under half an hour. I panicked and turned to the fridge. I couldn’t serve Microchips and beans on toast amidst candlelight, wine and rose petals, could I? “Yeah, I’ve really felt guilty you cooking and cleaning the last month, so I decided I’d do something extra special nice – Microchips!”
I sunk back into the sofa, scouring my mind for an answer. And then it came, just popped straight into my mind – Mike. Mike was a good friend of mine, hadn’t seen him for a while but we used to hang around together all the time, and the wonderful thing is he works in a restaurant literally a couple of minutes walk from the flat. I grabbed my mobile and dialled his number immediately.
”Hello?”
”Hey…Mike, it’s Rich here.”
”Ah, long time no see.”
”Yeah, I actually need your help, mate. Erm…do you happen to be at work?”
”I’m here for a couple more hours ‘til my shift finishes, yeah.”
And from there it stemmed. I told him I needed meals. He told me he had two reject steaks just sent back because they were well done instead of medium rare, he was just about to chuck them. Nail to head. He kept them warm as I rushed over to collect them, return home, and drop the final, finishing touches into place. It turned out I didn’t even have long enough for that.
I turned up outside our block to see Laura’s car pull into the car park, she was early. Seeing this I headed upstairs, nearly letting the meals slip out of my hands on the way, quickly dropped them on the dinner table, straightened up, and scrambled for the door as Laura let herself in.
”W…what’s all this?” she said, somewhat charmed by what I'd done.
“I…wanted to do something special for you.” I said, still gasping for air from the last minute rush.
”Awww, that’s so sweet.” she said, pecking me on the cheek. From here on it seemed like everything was going to be alright.
I sat her down, took the weight off her feet, and she tucked into a restaurant-prepared sirloin steak – what a result.
”Mmmmm, it tastes lovely, it’s just like being out for dinner!”
I smiled to myself as I sat with her.
”Oh, I’ll just go and get some wine from the kitchen” she said.
“OK, bring it in if you like” I replied.
There was a pause as the kitchen door closed, and then I heard her voice from the kitchen.
“Richard?”
”Yes darling?”
”Why is there an uncooked chicken sitting in the middle of the kitchen?”
I took the day off work to have a lie-in, watch daytime television and then start preparing for what I hoped would be a memorable night for Laura. Rose petals were arranged on and around the bed, wine was at the ready, candles were dotted around the dinner table, and one of Tesco’s finest chickens was roasting away in the oven. Everything was set up for this to be an excellent night.
That was until it became apparent what a moron I had been. Whilst musing over Sky Sports News I decided to check on the chicken that I had put in the oven well over an hour ago, primed for when my beautiful girlfriend returned home from work. I strolled into the kitchen, opened the oven door, bracing myself for that burst of heat to waft up into your face, and felt nothing. The oven in fact was never turned on. This failure to turn a single knob left me with under half an hour to roast a chicken.
If it wasn’t clear by my inability to turn an oven on, I am in fact not a chef. However, I do know that a half-defrosted chicken isn’t going to roast in under half an hour. I panicked and turned to the fridge. I couldn’t serve Microchips and beans on toast amidst candlelight, wine and rose petals, could I? “Yeah, I’ve really felt guilty you cooking and cleaning the last month, so I decided I’d do something extra special nice – Microchips!”
I sunk back into the sofa, scouring my mind for an answer. And then it came, just popped straight into my mind – Mike. Mike was a good friend of mine, hadn’t seen him for a while but we used to hang around together all the time, and the wonderful thing is he works in a restaurant literally a couple of minutes walk from the flat. I grabbed my mobile and dialled his number immediately.
”Hello?”
”Hey…Mike, it’s Rich here.”
”Ah, long time no see.”
”Yeah, I actually need your help, mate. Erm…do you happen to be at work?”
”I’m here for a couple more hours ‘til my shift finishes, yeah.”
And from there it stemmed. I told him I needed meals. He told me he had two reject steaks just sent back because they were well done instead of medium rare, he was just about to chuck them. Nail to head. He kept them warm as I rushed over to collect them, return home, and drop the final, finishing touches into place. It turned out I didn’t even have long enough for that.
I turned up outside our block to see Laura’s car pull into the car park, she was early. Seeing this I headed upstairs, nearly letting the meals slip out of my hands on the way, quickly dropped them on the dinner table, straightened up, and scrambled for the door as Laura let herself in.
”W…what’s all this?” she said, somewhat charmed by what I'd done.
“I…wanted to do something special for you.” I said, still gasping for air from the last minute rush.
”Awww, that’s so sweet.” she said, pecking me on the cheek. From here on it seemed like everything was going to be alright.
I sat her down, took the weight off her feet, and she tucked into a restaurant-prepared sirloin steak – what a result.
”Mmmmm, it tastes lovely, it’s just like being out for dinner!”
I smiled to myself as I sat with her.
”Oh, I’ll just go and get some wine from the kitchen” she said.
“OK, bring it in if you like” I replied.
There was a pause as the kitchen door closed, and then I heard her voice from the kitchen.
“Richard?”
”Yes darling?”
”Why is there an uncooked chicken sitting in the middle of the kitchen?”
Haha - wonderful :)
good story and good luck with this laura! ha
Great last line. Whilst the rushing out to get a meal from a take-away/restaurant to trick a loved one into thinking you've cooked for them idea is not a particularly original one, you've delivered it well here. It was an entertaining read.
It’s been fun living with Laura for the last two months. We get on well, make each other laugh, and I genuinely am in love with her. And its because of this that I’ve felt guilty that she’s been doing all the cooking and the cleaning, whilst I work long hours and come home knackered. So I thought I’d show her I did actually care, even though I didn’t always show it.
I took the day off work to have a lie-in, watch daytime television and then start preparing for what I hoped would be a memorable night for Laura. Rose petals were arranged on and around the bed, wine was at the ready, candles were dotted around the dinner table, and one of Tesco’s finest chickens was roasting away in the oven. Everything was set up for this to be an excellent night.
That was until it became apparent what a moron I had been. Whilst musing over Sky Sports News I decided to check on the chicken that I had put in the oven well over an hour ago, primed for when my beautiful girlfriend returned home from work. I strolled into the kitchen, opened the oven door, bracing myself for that burst of heat to waft up into your face, and felt nothing. The oven in fact was never turned on. This failure to turn a single knob left me with under half an hour to roast a chicken.
If it wasn’t clear by my inability to turn an oven on, I am in fact not a chef. However, I do know that a half-defrosted chicken isn’t going to roast in under half an hour. I panicked and turned to the fridge. I couldn’t serve Microchips and beans on toast amidst candlelight, wine and rose petals, could I? “Yeah, I’ve really felt guilty you cooking and cleaning the last month, so I decided I’d do something extra special nice – Microchips!”
I sunk back into the sofa, scouring my mind for an answer. And then it came, just popped straight into my mind – Mike. Mike was a good friend of mine, hadn’t seen him for a while but we used to hang around together all the time, and the wonderful thing is he works in a restaurant literally a couple of minutes walk from the flat. I grabbed my mobile and dialled his number immediately.
”Hello?”
”Hey…Mike, it’s Rich here.”
”Ah, long time no see.”
”Yeah, I actually need your help, mate. Erm…do you happen to be at work?”
”I’m here for a couple more hours ‘til my shift finishes, yeah.”
And from there it stemmed. I told him I needed meals. He told me he had two reject steaks just sent back because they were well done instead of medium rare, he was just about to chuck them. Nail to head. He kept them warm as I rushed over to collect them, return home, and drop the final, finishing touches into place. It turned out I didn’t even have long enough for that.
I turned up outside our block to see Laura’s car pull into the car park, she was early. Seeing this I headed upstairs, nearly letting the meals slip out of my hands on the way, quickly dropped them on the dinner table, straightened up, and scrambled for the door as Laura let herself in.
”W…what’s all this?” she said, somewhat charmed by what I'd done.
“I…wanted to do something special for you.” I said, still gasping for air from the last minute rush.
”Awww, that’s so sweet.” she said, pecking me on the cheek. From here on it seemed like everything was going to be alright.
I sat her down, took the weight off her feet, and she tucked into a restaurant-prepared sirloin steak – what a result.
”Mmmmm, it tastes lovely, it’s just like being out for dinner!”
I smiled to myself as I sat with her.
”Oh, I’ll just go and get some wine from the kitchen” she said.
“OK, bring it in if you like” I replied.
There was a pause as the kitchen door closed, and then I heard her voice from the kitchen.
“Richard?”
”Yes darling?”
”Why is there an uncooked chicken sitting in the middle of the kitchen?”
I took the day off work to have a lie-in, watch daytime television and then start preparing for what I hoped would be a memorable night for Laura. Rose petals were arranged on and around the bed, wine was at the ready, candles were dotted around the dinner table, and one of Tesco’s finest chickens was roasting away in the oven. Everything was set up for this to be an excellent night.
That was until it became apparent what a moron I had been. Whilst musing over Sky Sports News I decided to check on the chicken that I had put in the oven well over an hour ago, primed for when my beautiful girlfriend returned home from work. I strolled into the kitchen, opened the oven door, bracing myself for that burst of heat to waft up into your face, and felt nothing. The oven in fact was never turned on. This failure to turn a single knob left me with under half an hour to roast a chicken.
If it wasn’t clear by my inability to turn an oven on, I am in fact not a chef. However, I do know that a half-defrosted chicken isn’t going to roast in under half an hour. I panicked and turned to the fridge. I couldn’t serve Microchips and beans on toast amidst candlelight, wine and rose petals, could I? “Yeah, I’ve really felt guilty you cooking and cleaning the last month, so I decided I’d do something extra special nice – Microchips!”
I sunk back into the sofa, scouring my mind for an answer. And then it came, just popped straight into my mind – Mike. Mike was a good friend of mine, hadn’t seen him for a while but we used to hang around together all the time, and the wonderful thing is he works in a restaurant literally a couple of minutes walk from the flat. I grabbed my mobile and dialled his number immediately.
”Hello?”
”Hey…Mike, it’s Rich here.”
”Ah, long time no see.”
”Yeah, I actually need your help, mate. Erm…do you happen to be at work?”
”I’m here for a couple more hours ‘til my shift finishes, yeah.”
And from there it stemmed. I told him I needed meals. He told me he had two reject steaks just sent back because they were well done instead of medium rare, he was just about to chuck them. Nail to head. He kept them warm as I rushed over to collect them, return home, and drop the final, finishing touches into place. It turned out I didn’t even have long enough for that.
I turned up outside our block to see Laura’s car pull into the car park, she was early. Seeing this I headed upstairs, nearly letting the meals slip out of my hands on the way, quickly dropped them on the dinner table, straightened up, and scrambled for the door as Laura let herself in.
”W…what’s all this?” she said, somewhat charmed by what I'd done.
“I…wanted to do something special for you.” I said, still gasping for air from the last minute rush.
”Awww, that’s so sweet.” she said, pecking me on the cheek. From here on it seemed like everything was going to be alright.
I sat her down, took the weight off her feet, and she tucked into a restaurant-prepared sirloin steak – what a result.
”Mmmmm, it tastes lovely, it’s just like being out for dinner!”
I smiled to myself as I sat with her.
”Oh, I’ll just go and get some wine from the kitchen” she said.
“OK, bring it in if you like” I replied.
There was a pause as the kitchen door closed, and then I heard her voice from the kitchen.
“Richard?”
”Yes darling?”
”Why is there an uncooked chicken sitting in the middle of the kitchen?”