My Mum was watching MasterChef the other day and it inspired the following story. Hope you like it!
"STOP!" I ran after the van, my legs burning, but it ignored my efforts, and drove into the distance.
I sank on a bench, and sighed in disbelief. In my hands I held a very important letter. It was an application to be on MasterChef! I wanted, more than anything, to get on that show- and I had only figured out how to apply two days ago. Tomorrow was the last day I could apply, and since the postman had been so damn punctual, my application would never get there on time.
I sighed again, and stared at my envelope. There was always next year. I was just about to turn around and go home, when I realised what I was staring at.
4 Ingleby Road
I had no idea where Ingleby Road was, but I lived in York. It wasn't that far away from London. It must be possible to get into London before 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. I ran home to the mighty aid of Google.
Two hours later, and I was on a train, on my way to London. It was pretty late- like about eleven o clock, but I'd booked a room, in a cheap bed and breakfast (on Hotels.com) not far from the station, so I should be okay. I was so excited, I jiggled around on my seat, causing quite a few business men in scary suits to frown at me with dissaproval. I really didn't care. All that mattered was that I might make it on MasterChef!
The train ride was pretty quick, and I soon navigated my way to the bed and breakfast and signed in, before collapsing in my room. I put my envelope next to me on my bed, changed, and fell asleep.
Much to my dismay, I slept in, so I ate quickly the next day at breakfast, because I knew Ingleby Road was quite far away. Then I ran back to my room to collect my stuff and get my envelope. My bag was packed and I turned to the space beside the bed to get the letter.
It wasn't there.
I jumped up in shock. How could it not be there?! I looked again. Still no envelope. Now I was in a panic. I searched all around the room, under the bed, in the bathroom, in my pockets. No envelope. I didn't have another form! I ran downstairs to reception, and asked if the maids had come across anything while they were cleaning my room. It took half an hour to actually find the maid who had cleaned my room, and she was a from Lativia, and didn't understand the question. It was getting late and I glanced at my watch. 12 o clock! There was no point trying to get another form now, it was too late. I felt like crying, so I returned to my room to get my stuff and head home. I opened the door and I tripped over my bag. Cursing, I looked up, to see my envelope, crushed in the bin in front of me. It had a huge spaghetti stain on the side.
"That doesn't matter, no time to fuss, it takes two hours to get to Ingleby Road!" I said out loud, grabbed everything, and ran out of the room.
Letters plopped through the letterbox, and I ran to pick them up and see if MasterChef had replied, like I had been doing for the past three weeks. After I had ran out of the hotel, the bus had been late, and I had only just made it to 4 Ingleby Road in the nick of time, where I handed in my application at the front desk. But I still hadn't found out if they wanted me in the show or not.
"Come on, come on, come on........"
I sorted through the letters, each one falling to the ground of no interest, except for the last, which I held in my hands transfixed. MasterChef was written on the side! I ripped it open and read.
Congratulations, you have been accepted. YES! I thought. We loved how your envelope looked how it had come straight from the kitchen. The spaghetti stain! The below details are things you will need to know.
It then said all the starting dates and rules and things like that. I couldn't be bothered with reading that all now, I had to celebrate! I got out the wine, and imagined winnning the trophy.
It was a pity I couldn't cook, really.
I really enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it!
From The Girl With The Notepad :)