First lines of classic novels if no-one had childcare

[cariadlet]

Here's a few to get us started.
lithub.com/first-lines-of-classic-novels-if-no-one-had-childcare/,

That was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim, Dim being really dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry. “Fucking great” I thought “I finally get a bloody babysitter for a night out and the first thing I see is fucking milk. Give me a double synthemesc and then we can go to Spoons. They have two pitchers for £12”.

They were not railway children to begin with. Mummy didn’t believe in public transport. But when Daddy’s business went tits up, needs must.

Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. It was only the first day of the Summer holidays. “41 fucking days to go” he mumbled to himself before he stumbled into the half filled Chad Valley Fill N Fun pool.

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. Which all proved a pointless exercise once his sister turned up with the twins and their fingerpaints.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown first met Paddington on a railway platform. In fact, that was how he came to have such an unusual name for a bear, for Paddington was the name of the station.

It was for the best that they didn't know how much the school mums sniggered at the names they had bestowed on little Canarywharf and Crouchhill.

Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. And the bread. And the bastard butter. And then she'd pay the nursery invoice, book the soft play party, clean the loo and ram the kitchen mop up her arse while she was at it.

The six weeks holiday lay spread out before them into the distant future, like the sun setting on a far away horizon. The lure of the six weeks holidays enticed them both like the promise of an ice cream on a hot summer's day waiting to be consumed by them. Would their school holiday be filled with fun and enthralling excitement of discovering forbidden playgrounds and treasures on their scooters and bikes? Spending endless hours building elaborate sandcastles or splashing in the sea at the seaside? Or exploring the woods, finding new trails and building dens? Visiting museums or seeing Mathila in the West End? Or would the get on a plane and visit a beautiful beach or city far away? Oh no why would they want to do that. Instead they would spend countless hours playing on their ninetendo switch interacting only with each other and other players online. Then at the end of it, they would say Mum we had the best summer ever.

This just made my day. Absolument génial. 😂

@Gufo

@UpToMyElbowsInDiapers Yeah I figured if I made out to my feckless narcissistic son that I was out of the way, I could spend more time with not only my beloved Perez, my beloved friends but of course also God without my dreadful son getting in the way. Good old Thomas, pretending to wobble his way through my funeral like he did. We both enjoy sunset walks everyday now.

My son needed a kick up the arse really: I mean, just look at that gangster he was hanging out with? And the geezer with the skanky dog who nearly gave the game away? I just hope his girlfriend sees sense and finds someone more reliable.

As for the poor chap on the beach, I really feel for his family. Did no one think about them in all this? It's almost as if they were strangers in their own country....

So actually I faked my own death to avoid my son. Who'd have thought things would have ended up as they did??!

At that very moment, in the very sort of Park Avenue co-op apartment that so obsessed the Mayor … twelve-foot ceilings … two wings, one for the white Anglo-Saxon Protestants who own the place and one for the help … Sherman McCoy was kneeling in his front hall trying to put a leash on a dachshund. “I’d rather walk the fucking dog than listen to that whiny little shit Bing for one more second” he thought.

Bonfire of the Vanities

(shamefully I don't recognise some of the opening lines on this thread so I like to see where they are from )

In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swifly moving and blue in the channels.
But the very best thing about the house was the excellent high speed Internet connection which meant no interruption to 24 hour Roblox and Minecraft, and peace perfect peace

The above is A Farewell to Arms