|
|
| |
|
|
| |
This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Age 23, living in sin in Twickenham with Cheesy
Likes
Movies
Books
Writing
Theatre
Hugs
Kittens
Chess
Scrabble (mostly beating Cheesy's butt)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Dislikes
Vegetables
Arguments
Cleaning
Trashy TV
Pretensions
Public Transport
Pets
Rabbits-Bambi, Fern, Sooty, Pippa-all deceased
Dog-Sammy-deceased :(
Fish-CatFlap-recently (and finally!) deceased
Cat-Tiggy-still scratching
|
|
|
|
Technically Rachel
|
|
| |
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Sometimes, when I visit the GrandMomos and GrandPopos - I get swamped with an overwhelming sense of paranoia that I'm somehow living in a sitcom. You want your loopy working class lancashire old folk stereotype? My lot have got it in reams. To be fair to the PopoGrandMomo (think about it and you'll understand what I'm saying there), she was doped up and recovering from a hip operation - so her weird stories about occurrences that blatantly haven't taken place, can be excused. My theory is the old dear isn;t able at the moment to distinguish between dreams and reality - as her stories have that dreamlike quality to them.
"I saw you, Son, walking down the corridor with another man, and you were ignoring me, and I kept yelling and you didn't bother, you horrid thing - and then you started lifting barrels and your back's supposed to be bad"
"Ooh, a young man came in and tried to sell me a sandwich, but I told him no, and then he went and ate it! Cheeky thing"
Try telling her she's dreaming, and you look like you've told her she's just flashed her knickers to the whole ward. Still fairly sharp though - picked up totally when I was patronising her and mocked me thoroughly for it. Sharpness became less impressive when she started waving to a lady over the room, insisting it was another GrandMomo in our family. That and the aged Asian gentleman next to her who apparently was speaking German (not quite) and as far as she was concerned was most certainly a Nazi. First Asian Nazi I've come across, but I suppose one has to keep an open mind.
Her attitude to the PopoGrandPopo was as usual though - throwing a bit of sweet wrapper at him, grinning and saying "Ooh, I wish that was a rock".
The other side of the family was just as entertaining this weekend. The MomoGrandMomo is on a new drug that on the one hand is making her much more talkative and lucid, but on the other extremely blunt. In that I'm-Going-To-Say-What-I-Think-Whether-You-Like-It-Or-Not kind of way. One of my younger cousins is bearing the brunt of being an "ugly baby".
Momo: "There's no such thing as an ugly baby, Mum"
MomoGrandMomo: "Yes there is - she was one. She was an ugly baby!"
MomoGrandPopo is generally just looking harassed through all this and making talkie-talkie signs over her head at any given opportunity. Though his current mice catching schemes kept me very amused. Noticing the humane mouse trap in their kitchen I enquired as to whether they had a mouse. Apparently they'd had two, but not anymore. After catching the first one in the humane trap, MomoGrandPopo had instructed one of my male younger cousins to put it in a bag and whack it against the garden wall. The second mouse caught in the humane trap, MomoGrandPopo decided he would kill humanely by drowning it.
Hmmm.
Begs the question, why on earth bother with the humane mousetrap - snap the bugger's head off with the proper trap and be done with it.
I can't wait to be old.
5:09 pm
|
|
| |
|
|
|
