My grandmother
(who drank herself to death many years ago, hah!)

was terribly posh. My mother, coming as she did from Staines, was clearly not good enough for her son, and so my mother was "not to be spoken to".

This went as far as her pretending I didn't exist either.

I only met her twice, once when she was in bed after a drunken fall, and once when she was in hospital after a drunken fall. The surgeon apparently said her liver fell apart in his hands. She didn't survive.

I'm guessing she only drank posh gin, but not sure. See, I'm not bitter.
( chthonic, Thu 15 Sep 2005, 12:49, Reply)