A Love Letter

DEAR NANDO’S,

This is the first time I am writing a love letter to a restaurant chain. But what can I say? In the words of a big-nosed fella: you complete me. And you’re about to find out how, in a little more detail than you might anticipate.

My son has a runny nose these days. And when he gets a runny nose, he gets a nasal drip. And when he gets a nasal drip, he coughs. And if he coughs long and hard enough, he throws up. Tonight was one of those nights, Nando’s. I am telling you all this because relationships such as ours must be based on complete honesty. I don’t have help in the house these days, Nando’s. And I am allergic to detergent. The skin on my hands is scaly and splitting because of the daily dish washing. My knuckles were BLEEDING yesterday, Nando’s, and I’m still washing up in the kitchen ‘till past midnight every night. Do you feel my pain? I knew you would.

That’s why I called you tonight. Just when I thought the dishes were done, three more popped up, and the very idea of having to pick up that sponge again near killed me with misery. And then I thought, what if I had an incentive to finish? And what better incentive is there in the world for a woman than chocolate? And how else could I get hold of chocolate at 11.30 pm unless someone delivered it to my doorstep? That is when I picked up the phone instead of the sponge and dialed the number for your delivery service. I did not have high hopes, Nando’s, but an authoritative sounding guy whose name I don’t remember assured me that you deliver until 12.30 am. This was legit; I was in through the door. So I ordered one slice of your divine chocolate cake to be delivered at my house within 45 minutes. I now had a deadline in which to finish washing up the kitchen.

It was then that I heard my son coughing. And I ran to the room as fast as my horizontally ample legs could carry me, but it was not fast enough. Do you know what it feels like to confront the grossness of your poor son’s puke at 11.30 pm and realize that you now have another half hour of washing and cleaning up ahead of you? Do you understand that feeling that creeps up on the most determined of us mothers – the “I will NEVER get my life back again, ever-ever-ever” feeling? Do you get it? I knew you would. Because tonight, it was only the thought of that chocolate cake that kept me going, beloved Nando’s. Even as I believed that I would be cleaning vomit for the rest of my days, I still knew that there was chocolate cake around the corner. You saved me tonight.

Thanks to you, I will probably never need to go into therapy. Because each bite of that cake is worth an hour on the leather couch. A therapist could only listen, whereas your cake paints my troubles chocolate (yes, that’s a colour). I will finish this letter with an appropriate ode – i.e. a marketing tagline:

There are others in this business who claim to be purveyors of happiness…

… but only Nando’s delivers!

Wah wah, if I may say so myself.

With thanks (and eternal love),

Me.