Sultanas.

I've never met someone that doesn't like sultanas. Except my mum. She doesn't not like them so much as she disapproves of me attempting to make them.

Mum: I bought some grapes
Me: are there any brown ones?
Mum: they’re green…
Me: I know but are there any brown ones that are getting old?
Mum: oh Vanessa, not this again.
Me: just tell me. I’ll find out eventually
Mum: I thought you grew out of this?
Me: Mum?
Mum: yes, there are some brownish ones
Me: excellent. Can you put them aside for me?
Mum: no Vanessa, we’re not doing this again.
Me: you won’t even notice them this time.
Mum: please.
Me: let’s put them on the window this time, you know, get them some vitamin d.
Mum: Vanessa, you’re 22 years old…
Me: I think that’s where I went wrong last time. I was too young. Too inexperienced. This batch will be better.
Mum: *walking out of the room in defeat* you’re not going to be able to make sultanas Vanessa!