Pancake day or Shrove Tuesday depending on your religious outlook on life has always been a day that is seemingly a day dedicated to gluttony.
My father and mother never celebrated that day at all, I'm not sure either of them knew how to cook and there wasn't a hob to cook them on in the apartment.
It wasn't until Fred and Harry took it upon themselves to include me in their lives or rather drag me kicking and screaming into their lives and traditions. Oddly enough though it wasn't Fred that had the idea to force feed me pancakes once a year, it was Harry.
Harry has only three motivations in life, women, money and food. How he gets hold of women is fairly obvious given how many of them swoon and fall at his feet when he merely throws a smile their way.
How he manages to eat all that he does without seemingly gaining weight is more of a mystery, but even more curious than that is where he gets the money to be able to afford his hideously overpriced apartment, the hot tub on the balcony and the very expensive clothing he walks around in.
Any time I've asked him about it, he has shrugged it off with some joking comment and even after I have tried to investigate him several times I am no closer to knowing where all his money comes from. Fred also doesn't talk about it, either because he doesn't know or he because he doesn't want to talk about.
Of his three motivations, the only one we can really share is his love of food, mostly because I don't swoon whenever he smiles and have no intention of ever doing so and I also don't have any money so unless I was robbing him blind, its not something we can bond over.
When it comes to food it doesn't make much difference to me what the food is as long as it keeps me alive and function in between cases and hospital visits. Harry sees food in a very different light. To him food is something that needs to be endured and great care needs to be taken over its preparation and production.
The first time I went round to Harry's to join him and Fred for pancakes on Shrove Tuesday I was a little bit astounded that not only did he have several mixers that he used to whisk up the pancake batter in and the number of different pans for cooking the pancakes in but also the fact he threw brandy in with them and fire came flying out of the pan was something I honestly didn't expect.
Though I will say this - as showy and faffy as they seemed to be, they didn't half taste good. Especially with the brandy.
My father and mother never celebrated that day at all, I'm not sure either of them knew how to cook and there wasn't a hob to cook them on in the apartment.
It wasn't until Fred and Harry took it upon themselves to include me in their lives or rather drag me kicking and screaming into their lives and traditions. Oddly enough though it wasn't Fred that had the idea to force feed me pancakes once a year, it was Harry.
Harry has only three motivations in life, women, money and food. How he gets hold of women is fairly obvious given how many of them swoon and fall at his feet when he merely throws a smile their way.
How he manages to eat all that he does without seemingly gaining weight is more of a mystery, but even more curious than that is where he gets the money to be able to afford his hideously overpriced apartment, the hot tub on the balcony and the very expensive clothing he walks around in.
Any time I've asked him about it, he has shrugged it off with some joking comment and even after I have tried to investigate him several times I am no closer to knowing where all his money comes from. Fred also doesn't talk about it, either because he doesn't know or he because he doesn't want to talk about.
Of his three motivations, the only one we can really share is his love of food, mostly because I don't swoon whenever he smiles and have no intention of ever doing so and I also don't have any money so unless I was robbing him blind, its not something we can bond over.
When it comes to food it doesn't make much difference to me what the food is as long as it keeps me alive and function in between cases and hospital visits. Harry sees food in a very different light. To him food is something that needs to be endured and great care needs to be taken over its preparation and production.
The first time I went round to Harry's to join him and Fred for pancakes on Shrove Tuesday I was a little bit astounded that not only did he have several mixers that he used to whisk up the pancake batter in and the number of different pans for cooking the pancakes in but also the fact he threw brandy in with them and fire came flying out of the pan was something I honestly didn't expect.
Though I will say this - as showy and faffy as they seemed to be, they didn't half taste good. Especially with the brandy.
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