The story of the felafel earring

Firstly. That is certainly not the way I thought you spelt felafel. I would have guessed faluffel. But that’s not the point. Fell. Laugh. Fell. (Whateverly Beverly)

So I was on my way back from my stint in the country- my December of sunrises on horseback and baby steer testicles (more on that another time)…. When my mum called and said she had a gift for me.

This is always exciting. Mum has always loved dressing me up and making my rooms look like fairy princess kingdoms where inspiration and good quality fabric meet to have tea. So gifts are usually totally excellent.

I asked- what is it?

She told me it was a ruby earring.

I assumed she meant ruby earrings. Plural. One singular earring just sounds completely preposterous. Who buys one earring? Even I was genius enough to get an even number of piercings so I could buy pairs. Five in one ear and one in the other. It just makes sense that’s all I’m saying.

Anyway. As it turns out… There was just one little tiny ruby earring waiting for me when I got home. Mum gave it to me filled with pride.

“And to think I nearly choked on it!!” She said.

I had to ask.

“Mum. Where did you get this from?”

“It was inside my kebab felafel!”

Oh yeah. Of course it was.

And that…

Is story of my ruby earring. Right side. Second hole.

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