grandmas
my grandma was the nicest, sweetest little old lady, about 4'11" of cooking and grandchild spoiling. she let local kids play football in her garden without bashing at the window with a stick, she was kind and patient, loved her family, had lots of friends, went to church every week, and she was passionate about cricket. but then she'd reveal these shocking and unsuspected pockets of bigotry.

"it's such a shame the word 'gay' has been stolen," she'd lament. "it used to be such a lovely word." utterly oblivious to the fact that her own brother was screamingly gay.

in later life she had to spend every friday in a hospital group. one day she got into all kinds of trouble. when we asked what on earth she had done, her jaw stuck out mutinously.

"i don't see why i can't call them 'pakis'" she said. "they ARE pakis."

i guess it's a generational thing, but you've got a brain, there's simply no excuse for not using it. it was the only thing we ever argued about.

meanwhile my friend ashley was once taking his grandmother, a tiny delicate 90 year old lady, around sainsburys. in the fruit section, he asked her if she wanted any watermelon. she blinked at him.

"good lord no," she said loudly. far too loudly. "you need a mouth like a nigger to eat one of those."

shame she's long since dead, as he's now out of the closet and dating a black guy.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 28 Feb 2013, 10:15, Reply)