Hello
I was visiting my Nan yesterday to check on her taps. Apparently they were dripping.
She’s great my Nan. 128 smokes 40 a day, drinks her share and swears like a Scaffolder with piles.
Through the fug of cigarette smoke I found her sitting in her chair (the special one that tips up and vibrates -”me only pleasure now that Norman has gorn” as she puts it) watching a spot of daytime telly. I think it was “Bodies For Cash In The Attic” or something.
Shirley’s 5 bean chilli worked its magic and before I could display my DIY acumen, I needed the facilities. I took The Sun up with me and had a go at the Crossword. The coffee break one. 6 hours later I still had only got three answers (Egg, Tea and Roy Keane if you want to know).
Nan wasn’t too happy when I couldn’t fix her taps.
“Useless twat,” she called me, coughed a chesty smoker’s cough and brought up a gobful of phlegm which landed on me Reeboks.
Bit harsh I thought.
Laters
Bob
