Advice from Old People
Sometimes, just sometimes, old people say something worth listening to. Ok, so it's like picking the needle out of a whole haystack of mis-remembered war stories, but those gems should be celebrated.
Tell us something worthwhile an old-type person has told you.
Note, we're leaving the definition of old up to you, you smooth-skinned youngsters.
( , Thu 19 Jun 2008, 16:16)
Sometimes, just sometimes, old people say something worth listening to. Ok, so it's like picking the needle out of a whole haystack of mis-remembered war stories, but those gems should be celebrated.
Tell us something worthwhile an old-type person has told you.
Note, we're leaving the definition of old up to you, you smooth-skinned youngsters.
( , Thu 19 Jun 2008, 16:16)
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tradesmen are filthy
My wee gran is Welsh, not making excuses she just is. She’s 86, 4'8 and almost a perfect sphere with hair like candy floss - a bit how you might expect Yoda to be if he came from Swansea and liked the odd chocolate éclair. Like many who battle through to the finish line in life she has a few pearls of wisdom but also some opinions that are somewhat unique.
A few years back she advised me to be careful 'in the bin' - turns out there was some broken crockery in there. I asked if she had had an accident whilst eyeing the hammer sitting on the kitchen table.
The story unfolded. ‘The man', i should say this is a coverall term my gran uses to refer to all tradesmen, meter readers, council employees etc - as in "I can't on Tuesday because the man is coming to fix the [washing] machine".
The previous day 'the man' had come to fit some window blinds - hardly a sewage spattered bloke from dyno-rod or pikey tarmac vendor then. I'm told he wore a 'nice suit and tie' and showed her the pictures of his family he kept in his wallet and was by all accounts a 'lovely man'. It was an all day job so she had given him numerous cups of tea and biscuits as small grandmothers are bound by law to do.
When he left she smashed the cup. Not washed it. Not discarded it. Smashed it. With a hammer.
Reason being? Whilst (screwing her wee welsh face up) she told me..
"Well, you never know where he's been"
!
( , Thu 19 Jun 2008, 16:51, Reply)
My wee gran is Welsh, not making excuses she just is. She’s 86, 4'8 and almost a perfect sphere with hair like candy floss - a bit how you might expect Yoda to be if he came from Swansea and liked the odd chocolate éclair. Like many who battle through to the finish line in life she has a few pearls of wisdom but also some opinions that are somewhat unique.
A few years back she advised me to be careful 'in the bin' - turns out there was some broken crockery in there. I asked if she had had an accident whilst eyeing the hammer sitting on the kitchen table.
The story unfolded. ‘The man', i should say this is a coverall term my gran uses to refer to all tradesmen, meter readers, council employees etc - as in "I can't on Tuesday because the man is coming to fix the [washing] machine".
The previous day 'the man' had come to fit some window blinds - hardly a sewage spattered bloke from dyno-rod or pikey tarmac vendor then. I'm told he wore a 'nice suit and tie' and showed her the pictures of his family he kept in his wallet and was by all accounts a 'lovely man'. It was an all day job so she had given him numerous cups of tea and biscuits as small grandmothers are bound by law to do.
When he left she smashed the cup. Not washed it. Not discarded it. Smashed it. With a hammer.
Reason being? Whilst (screwing her wee welsh face up) she told me..
"Well, you never know where he's been"
!
( , Thu 19 Jun 2008, 16:51, Reply)
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