I was visiting my Nan yesterday to check on her taps. Apparently they were dripping.
She’s great my Nan. 128 but still smokes 40 a day, drinks her share and swears like a Tory Minister.
Through the fug of cigarette smoke I found her sitting in her chair, the special one that tips up and vibrates, 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 whilst I was in there. The coffee break one. 6 hours later I still had only got three answers (and one of them was Egg).
Nan wasn’t too happy when I couldn’t fix her taps.
“Useless twat,” she called me.
Bit harsh I thought.