There are times in life when everything you do goes brilliantly. Your every decision and action is timed to perfection. You glide amongst your plebian companion’s like a collossus amongst ants, sweeping them aside with your shear invulnerability. And then, of course, there are the times when it all goes a bit poo.
Normally, when i’m left to make fudge, its the latter. My creations are less fudges, and more dali-esque abominations. However on saturday I banged out four fudges, each more beautifull and tasty than the last.
At last it had arrived. I was now a fudge maker. I had come of age. No longer a boy, but a man, a fudge making man.