pressreturn

Well, here we are on the eve of day ninety, and still not a cigarette smoked. I thought I’d celebrate the occasion by acquiescing to the demands of all my reader (thanks, dude!) for the return of (somewhat) regular writings.

I was just thinking about the stubbornness of one of my family members (maybe brought on by seeing a mule in tonight’s Family Guy) and the source of private humor that brings about for the rest of us. I’m talking, of course, about my grandmother – the stubbornest and most spritely woman in Southern England. It’s often said (by me, primarily) that following a nuclear winter, the only living things to survive would be the cockroaches and my gran – having spent the time bending their cockroachy ears about how shocking it is that the price of cauliflower has gone up so much.

Still as funny today as when I heard it related to me is the rant that this 90-year old (maybe that’s the connection here?) was on, telling my father that she had a lovely little pressure cooker and that she’d lent it to Margaret when she was in Bristol.

“And she never gave it back – I’m so cross with her”, she went on.

“Bristol?”, said my Dad, “when Margaret went to nursing college?”

“Yes. It was a lovely little pressure cooker it was” she replied.

“That was over thirty years ago! You still haven’t forgiven your youngest daughter for not returning your pressure cooker?”

“No. As I said – it was a lovely little thing – she should have given it back”