» Christmas Tales

Evil Grandma
My granny was a pretty bitter old woman who generally took a strong dislike to most things, especially people.

I have to admit I was amused by her trying to poison pigeons, keeping a large stash of cash under her mattress, and her telling her kind and helpful neighbour that he was nosey and to go away.

For both convenience and cost, I used to park my car in her resident's only space in the town where I worked, and she lived. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement - I got free parking, she got to speak to another human being who didn't care that she was a hate filled monster. I even took lunch with her once per week - we were buddies!

Anyway, long story short, the rest of my family sent a naff Jesus in a manger card, and a cheap bottle of booze at Christmas (the safe option as she liked a tipple and was not fond of...well anything really.)

Because I knew my place as the special grandson, I trotted off to the shops feeling all lovely inside, and purchased her a beautiful broach with diamonds and sapphires - she was an old girl but she dressed well! I done good, and this touching, personal (and expensive) gift would reach the cold caverns of her icy heart, and cement my place as favourite grandchild (and top place in the Will).

However, I underestimated her icy meanness, and failed to understand the depths to which she resented being alive. The gift rather backfired.

On picking her up in my car, to taxi her off to the parents for Christmas Day dinner, I was promptly and in no uncertain terms bollocked for being late - the fact I had a 2 hours detour to run this service was of no consequence. Despite having a large cosy house in which to wait, she stood outside for an hour in the snow to prove her point.

I was sure that she can't have opened the fantastic gift I had left wrapped for her, she wouldn't have spoken to me like the other vile humans!

"Did you get your little present from Santa, Grandma?" I dared to ask

" I did...and it's a damn horrible ugly thing, how the damn hell do you you expect me to put that on with hands like these..." shows twisty gnarly fingers like twigs, with talons for nails... "It's neither use nor ornament, I'm fed up of people giving me things I don't want and didn't ask for...."

She continued on a bit, but my brain filtered her tirade of complete ungrateful and insensitive evil, and I started to feel a bit dizzy. For a fraction of a second (well, maybe about 10 full seconds) my gaze fixed on a post at the side of the road, and I wondered if I released her seatbelt and drove into the post, if it would kill her, or make her stronger.

On arrival at my parents gaff, despite her being crippled up and barely able to shuffle along since I can remember, she unfastened her safety belt with her gnarly twig fingers, jumped out of the range rover, and marched into my parents house. It was a Christmas fucking miracle.

I cried, no one spoke at the dinner, she was taken home by my dad who was given the piece of jewellery to send back to me, and never bought her another present.

She's is in a nursing home now, stroking a stuffed bunny rabbit that she calls Flopsy.

I kept the broach as a reminder of the woman I used to know.

Merry Christmas.
(Mon 23rd Dec 2013, 13:56, More)

» Petty Officials

Hazardous Waste (of time)
I rented out an old Victorian terrace house. It was full of nice old features - picture rails, high ceilings, plaster mouldings etc., and a beautiful deep original staircase to the upstairs rooms.

The tenants after not paying rent for a bit, and generally wrecking the place, decided to get awkward when issued with 'go away' papers, and called in the council, who promptly decreed the house was unfit for human habitation, a category 1 health hazard (or some such wording) because.... wait for it....

The balusters on the very nice staircase were over 7 inches apart!

A council official visited, made a report, and sent a stern letter instructing me to rectify this life threatening danger within so many days, or the terrible tenants could instruct the council to fix it, and they'd send me the bill!

I am unsure how having slightly smaller gaps in the baluster would offer much protection to hurling yourself down a flight of stairs, or why the tenants didn't put a baby gate up to stop unattended sprats launching themselves through a 8" gap. I bed the National Trust don't get this kind of bother!
(Mon 31st Mar 2014, 10:29, More)

» Sleepwalking

Uncle Mo
my uncle Morris drank a bottle of whisky every day. After 14 stokes and his house burning down to the ground we kind of thought fuck it, he deserves to drink.

Anyway, the fact his liver and brain were both pickled, he regularly was found wondering around the garden/house/sports field at the back of the house at various times of day or night.

One of his best was taking a piss in my airing cupboard one night. by morning the smell was pretty bad, and my best white towels never went near my face again.

Another favourite was taking my doberman "for a walk" on saturday mornings, wearing dressing gown and slippers, to the sports field behind my house. My dog loved playing inter village football, but no-one else seemed to find it very funny.

Poor old uncle mo is now drinking whisky in heaven, so look out if it starts raining.
(Tue 28th Aug 2007, 16:24, More)