Makkerz Buffe

“Ruby: I’ve decided. I’m putting my Gary on a diet.
Rosie: You’re putting him on a diet? How on earth can you control what your twenty-one-year-old son eats?
Ruby: Oh it’s easy; I’ll just nail down everything to the floor.
Rosie: So what kind of diet is it?
Ruby: I don’t know. I bought a magazine, but there are so many stupid diets out there I don’t know which one to pick. Remember that ridiculous one that you and I did last year? The alphabet one where we had to eat foods beginning with a certain letter every day?
Rosie: Oh yeah! How long did we do that for?!
Ruby: Em . . . that would be 26 days of course Rosie
Rosie: Oh . . . right . . . of course. You put on weight on the third day.
Ruby: That’s because the third day was the lucky letter “C” . . . Cakes . . . mmmm
Rosie: Well we made up for it on the last day. I was bloody starving on “Z” day; I was practically chasing zebras with a kitchen knife around the zoo. Could have eaten the zoo I suppose . . .
Ruby: You should have done what I did, I ate like a queen. I became German for the day and ate “ze cakes” and “ze buns.” Oh I don’t know Rosie. I think I’ll just invent a diet of my own and give those stupid magazines a run for their money”
― Cecelia Ahern, Love, Rosie

“There’s something completely unnerving about seeing your parents
upset. I suppose it’s because they’re supposed to be the strong ones, but
that’s not just it. Ever since people are kids they use their parents as some
sort of measurement for how bad a situation is. When you fall on the ground
really hard and you can’t figure out whether it hurts or not you look to your
parents. If they look worried and rush toward you, you cry. If they laugh and
smack the ground saying “Bold ground,” then you pick yourself up and get
on with it.”
― Cecelia Ahern, Love, Rosie