Toast

What about a pork pie, Mum?

Certainly not, Nigel.

Pork pies are common.

- What about some fresh cheese, then?

- Don't be silly, you don't know where it's been.

I'll have some nice Dairylea slices.

Right you are.

'My mother was always

averse to fresh produce.

'I'm Nigel, I'm nine years old

and I've never had a vegetable

that didn't come in a tin.'

- Thank you, Mrs Slater.

- Come on, Nigel.

Come on! What on earth

have you been doing?

Oh, come on.

'It must have been

the lack of nutrients that

gave my father his fiery temper.

'He was not a sweet man,

despite a very sweet tooth.'

Not like that, man!

'My mother's sweet nature made up

for her inability to cook,

or even make a sandwich.

'When you're deprived of something,

it just makes you all the more

hungry for it.'

- Can we make the cake, then?

- If we have to.

Oh!

What does that say?

I can't even read this. Right, flour.

Ooh!

I think that's enough.

Oh, yes, sieve it.

And some butter.

Oh.

Mum...

Oh, dear. Daddy will be pleased.

Mum, let me do it.

Shh, listen.

Don't worry, we'll cheer it up

with a little icing.

It's not too bad.

Mum, the dinner!

They're all burnt.

I think I'd better make some toast.

'No matter how bad things get,

it's impossible not to love

someone who made you toast.

'Once you've bitten

through that crusty surface

to the soft dough underneath

'and tasted the warm, salty butter,

you're lost forever.'

More tea, anyone?

Oh.

Aaah.

Mmm.

Aaah...

- What you doing?

- Oh!

- Nothing.

- Go to sleep, young man.

Aaah.

Oooh.

Mmm.

Right, I'm off.

You don't suppose there's anything

wrong with him, do you?

There you go.

And was it a pound of streaky bacon?

Yes, please.

- There you go, Mrs Patten.

- Thank you.

- Yes, Mr Salt?

- A pound of Caerphilly, please.

Right.

Anything else I can get you?

- Some raspberries, please.

- Right you are.

Hi, Nige.

Let's get to work, then.

'What are you doing?'

Making compost.

What's compost?

Sort of nature's way of melting

everything together.

Come here.

Give us your hand.

- Right, feel that.

- It's hot!

- Cool, eh?

Everything breaking down

lets all the goodness out.

That's what I love about gardens.

What?

They're alive.

- How do you mean, alive?

- Come here.

Right now, there's

going on all around us.

Thousands of new things being born.

All these smells and tastes -

no wonder it's an assault

on the senses.

That's what nature's

all about, ain't it?

What?

Get on.

Right.

Smell this.

Do you know what that's called?

Go on. Have a guess.

- I don't know.

- Well, what does it make you think of?

Parma Violets?

- Pleasure.

- Pleasure?

- Yeah.

Cool, eh?

Can you really eat them like that?

Aren't they dirty?

There's plenty of things they'll tell you is dirty

that won't do you any harm.

- In fact, most of them's good

for you in my opinion.

- Such as?

Gardening.

What do they taste like?

You don't know unless you try.

Please yourself.

Nigel?

Nigel, come on.

A tin of braised beef,

a tin of sponge pudding

and a tin of mixed veg, please.

Can we have spaghetti bolognese?

- I beg your pardon, Nigel?

- Spaghetti bolognese.

It's from Italy.

The sauce comes in a tin.

I wouldn't know how

to cook such a thing.

I'll show you.

Are you sure this is a good idea?

You have to put it IN the pan.

What on earth's this?

- It's spaghetti bolognese. It's Italian.

- Italian?

What the hell's wrong with you,

Nigel? It's rock hard.

It isn't cooked yet.

Stupid idea if you ask me.

See, I told you it wouldn't fit.

- What the hell's this?

- Cheese.

Percy Salt said you have to

put it on or it doesn't work.

- It smells like sick.

- Alan!

I don't think so.

Here goes.

Mmm, it's delicious.

You twiddle it round.

I think it's off.

Nigel, get Mum's bag.

Get Mum's bag!

Well, come on, Nigel!

Stupid boy! Come on.

I think I'd better make some toast.

'I think she's pregnant.'

Pregnant?

It's to do with her breathing.

Breathlessness, nausea. I'm telling

you, it's the same as my mum.

Sick all the time for no reason,

picky with food.

Nine months later, hello!

Out pops our Julie.

How do you think she got pregnant?

For Pete's sake, Nigel.

I don't think they've had...

..sex

for years.

- You'd be surprised.

Oh, milk. I think

I'm going to throw up.

Hey, I'll have it if

you're not going to drink it.

- What's it worth?

- I'll show you me knickers.

- I'd let you see my willy.

- What?

- Then if you give me your puddings, I'll give you a feel.

Well, actually,

I go home for dinners.

Well, just bear it in mind

for the future.

Here. You can have it for nowt.

The offer's there, Nigel.

'Josh, how can you tell

if someone's pregnant?'

- Well, you ain't been messing

about with someone, have you?

- Not me, my mum.

Your mum.

She keeps getting sick all the time.

Well, she doesn't

look very pregnant, Nige.

I hope not.

What's wrong with

being pregnant, anyways?

I'm scared that...

...if she goes into hospital, I'll

have to be looked after by my dad.

Oh, no. I'd better go inside.

Why?

I love it when

it rains in the summer.

Anyway, what's

the matter with your dad?

I don't think he likes me.

Don't be daft, what's not to like?

I think he thinks there's

something wrong with me.

You daft bugger! Come on.

Come on, Nige.

Put that on till these dry.

There's nothing wrong

with you, Nigel.

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