Where to start...
My grandma, when walking down the street once, became aware that her knicker elastic had snapped. Her response? To keep walking, and when they reached her ankles, she just stepped out of them and kept walking. She used to dye her hair all colours of the rainbow, but when I was born, went to the hairdressers to get the dye stripped out, and get it bleached white so she could be a 'white-haired granny'. Turned out she didn't need the bleach since once they'd stripped the dye out, it was already white.

My grandad thinks he's my uncle and hasn't been able to differentiate between me and my family's cat for years. He also sexually abused my mum for several years, precipitating a whole load of not-so-good loopiness in my family as a whole.

One of my other grandmothers is Irish and Catholic, and used to be a nurse. She's so unbearable that people in her local high street will dive into the nearest shop to avoid her and her incessant talk of who's ill, and who's dead. She's not happy unless someone has an illness she can discuss. She went to New York once, and couldn't sleep. So she went to the Subway and got the first train to a place name she recognised. She quite happily wandered around deepest, darkest Brooklyn for several hours, talking to randoms. It's my considered opinion that they were more scared of her than she of them. Oh, and once she got really annoyed about having to stop at a zebra crossing for a guy who was a phalidomide (sp?) kid, and referred to his 'little flipper arms' and how he shouldn't be allowed out in public.

I could go on, but the conditions of my day release say that I mustn't.
(firemasque, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:28, Reply)