Coco Pinchard's Big Fat Tipsy Wedding: A Funny Feel-Good Romantic Comedy by Robert Bryndza Page A

little intimidated by it all. I'm not sure if she’s really been abroad much. I know she went to the Isle of Wight in 1973.  
    We stopped for breakfast in a swanky modern Mc Donald's in Bratislava.  
    ‘Iss my treat girls!’ said Ethel. ‘Ave whatever you want- ooh- and see if they've got Tetley,’ said Ethel.  
    Marika spoke in Slovak to the girl behind the counter, who shook her head. In a practised move, Ethel pulled a teabag from her handbag and asked Marika to get her some hot water.
    'She's clever that Marika,' said Ethel. 'Can you speak anything foreign?'
    ‘I’m quite good in French,’ I said.
    'When I got evacuated up north we only learned things like how to make flaky pastry.'  
    ‘Marika can't make flaky pastry,’ I said.
    'But she can buy it pre-made,' said Ethel regretfully. 'Gawd I wish I could do it all again.'

    After we’d demolished our Mc Breakfasts, Marika went off to the loo and Ethel asked me how much twenty-two euros was in pounds.
    ‘There’s not a lot of difference now,’ I said. ‘It’s about twenty quid.’
    ‘Twenty quid? I just spent twenty quid!’ she spluttered. ‘She can’t ‘alf put it away,’ she said poking Marika’s Egg Mc Muffin and Hash Brown wrappers.
    ‘You said to order whatever we wanted?’
    ‘That was before I knew it was daylight robbery! Twenty quid for breakfast! My mother bought ‘er first two-up-two-down in Catford for thirty-five quid, and she still ‘ad change left over for a mangle.’
    ‘That was in nineteen twenty-four,’ I said. But Ethel carried on ranting.
    ‘Bloody foreigners. And I thought that dog of yours only drank UHT milk?’ Rocco had polished off three hash browns and a sausage patty with a hungry little bark of excitement.
    ‘Why did you offer to buy us all breakfast then?’ I said.
    ‘I thought Mc Donald’s in the Eastern bloc would be reasonable. Didn’t that power station blowing up make it a cheap ‘oliday destination?’
    ‘That was Chernobyl, in the Ukraine.’ I said.
    ‘Twenty bloody quid,’ moaned Ethel. Just then Marika came back.
    ‘Ello love,’ smiled Ethel. ‘Ave you ‘ad enough to eat? Can I get you anything else?’
    ‘No, thanks,’ said Marika. ‘That was great.’
    ‘It was a pleasure,’ grinned Ethel. ‘Now you must excuse me I need to go spend a penny.’
    ‘Well, don’t spend too many,’ I said. Ethel gave me a look and shuffled off to the ladies.
    ‘She’s being nice isn’t she?’ said Marika.  
    Me and Rocco just looked at each other.

    Thursday 23rd December   17.12
    TO: [email protected]

    Marika's mother lives in a smart three-bed flat in Nitra. It’s a beautiful town, we drove past a medieval castle high on a hill; and there were breathtaking views of a snow covered mountain called Zobor.   As we pulled into the car park, we saw her building was encased in black and white striped plastic, a flurry of wind rippled up inside causing a loud crackling.
    ‘Is that some kind of Slovakian Christmas decoration?’ said Ethel as we unloaded our suitcases.
    ‘No. It’s Slovakian builders, they’re insulating the building,’ said Marika.
    We were welcomed so warmly into the flat, by Marika’s mother Blazena, a huge matronly woman with a halo of curly black hair. I hadn't met Marika's stepfather Fero, who is very short, round, bald and in his sixties. He lumbered out of the bedroom drinking a bottle of beer with his shirt off. Blazena went mad shooing him back inside. Fero backed away muttering and shut the door.  
    'She's telling him to get dressed properly to meet the fine English ladies,' said Marika. I looked at myself and Ethel in our crumpled clothes. She made it sound like Judi Dench and Maggie Smith had arrived to stay.  
    Blazena gave us rib-cracking hugs, she then stared at Marika, narrowing her eyes for a moment. I thought she might guess Marika had quit her job, but she was distracted by Fero, now wearing a shirt but still with the bottle of beer. She