We live in Bedford， a town near London． My father is a hard﹣working pilot， so he doesn't have much time to look after us．

    When I was a kid， my mum liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then． And I remember one night in particular， when she had made breakfast food after a long， hard day at hospital．

    On that evening so long ago， my mum placed a plate of eggs， sausage and terribly burnt biscuits in front of my dad． I remember waiting to see if anyone notices． Yet all my dad did was reach for a biscuit， smile at my mum and ask my brother and me how we had been doing at school． I don't remember what I told him that night， but I do remember watching him put butter and jelly on that biscuit and eat every bite!

    When I got up from the table that evening， I remember hearing my mum apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits． And I will never forget what he said，" Honey， I love burnt biscuits．"

    Later that night， I went to kiss my dad good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burnt． He wrapped me in his arms and said，" Your mum is really tired after a hard day's work． Besides， a little burnt biscuit could never hurt anyone． We have been married for 17 years． She always cooks for me． Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocked but into your own．"

（1）what is the father？　　

（2）Where does the mother work？　　

（3）How many people are there in the family？　　

（4）How long have the mother and father been married？　　

（5）Why did the father eat the burnt biscuits？　　

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