Before we start pulling Granny apart this week, there are a couple of things I would like to state for the record. A couple of people – admittedly with the best of intensions – have asked me recently if I think it is fair us picking on Granny every month. She obviously has Alzheimer’s or dementia; we shouldn’t be picking on her the way we do. In reply to this, I would like to tell everyone that Granny’s column is written with the help of Granny – she knows all about it. How do you think we know half the facts concerning her little indiscretions? She tells us. Granny is in on the joke and thinks it is funny that Chimpton and I take the Michael. The second item I would like to put straight is that Granny does not have either Alzheimer’s or dementia. How do we know this? She has had a test at her GPs who have told her she just has short-term memory loss which is very common in the elderly. Obviously, Granny has forgotten ever taking the test and says we have made it up every time we mention it but… anyway, on with this month’s catastrophes…
Being a rather good bear, George offered to cut the hedge for Granny the other day. The hedge had not been trimmed this year and it was starting to look a little ungainly. Granny was most appreciative and retrieved the hedge trimmers from the tool shed and put them on charge overnight. The next day George set about trimming the hedge only for the trimmers to cut out half way through. George reminded Granny that the same thing had happed last year and it was probably time to get some new trimmers – maybe get a wired trimmer so there is no having to wait for the trimmers to charge overnight and then find it is raining the next day. Granny ordered some new trimmers straight away and paid for them online.
There is nothing Granny likes more than a bet. I don’t mean a walk to the bookies and put money on a horse kind of bet, I mean she likes a bet with me. Every time she says something and I suggest she is wrong she always replies, “Oh no I am not, do you want a bet?” I then ask her how much is the bet for and she replies, “A tenner!” However as soon as she loses the bet she then announces that a tenner doesn’t mean ten pounds, it means ten pence! She does it every time. If she would only pay up on some of these bets, then this time next year I would be a millionaire – as Del Boy says.
Unfortunately Granny is getting very sneaky lately. She is hiding her Grannyisms from me and so the number she performs has dwindled. Most of her Classic Grannyisms happen elsewhere and we rely on her to inform on herself – lately, she’s just not been playing ball. She is too busy sneaking out of the house and hoarding groceries and toilet paper from the shops. Luckily, we have someone else to take her place. Lately Chimpton has been staying with an elderly relative who goes by the name of Marg and her “Margisms” are nearly as good as Granny’s Grannyisms. In some cases even better. Here at Jammy Toast we are fast approaching the realisation that it is all old people who perform these amazing feats and not just Granny. Before we start we must state that Marg is as deaf as a post but refuses to wear her hearing aids inside the house, instead she has the telly on the highest volumes imaginable AND has the subtitles on in case she misses anything.
Saturday morning and storm Dennis had just arrived. Outside the wind was blowing a gale and the rain was coming down like stair rods. Even Paddington Bear was tweeting about it being “a real brolly buster.” Not far from us in Wales, people were being rescued from flooded homes by the fire service following flood and wind warnings with the Environmental Office warning of the ‘risk to life’ from Storm Dennis. I was watching coverage of the storm on BBC Breakfast Time, eating my bowl of porridge, thankful that I didn’t have to step outside in that weather when I heard the front door close. Who the hell could that be?
On Sunday Granny usually gets me a pork pie for tea. I have had a roast dinner at dinner time so I only feel like a little something at tea time and the pork pie usually hits the spot. A while ago I used to have little chicken pieces which taste just like KFC popcorn chicken rather than the pork pie and now I was beginning to feel like a change and revert back to the popcorn chicken. I asked Granny if she could get me some for tea on Sunday again. On Saturday I had a nose in the fridge and there they were – popcorn chicken pieces looking as lovely as ever.
For a while I thought Granny was going to get through December without performing any of her Grannyisms worth reporting on. It has been a very quiet month where Granny is concerned mostly because she hasn’t been well – contracting flu – and locking herself away so as not to pass it on to the rest of us. With hindsight I suppose it was too much to ask that she would go a whole month without causing mayhem and pandemonium – this time with a Christmas theme to it. With Christmas nearly upon us, Granny started writing lists and asking everyone if there was anything we wanted or needed. We were to let her know early so that things weren’t being rushed at the last minute.