Granny’s Relish
It’s Saturday morning, and both my kids are at a local birthday party: I’m not going, because it’s a Two Party Saturday and I’ve pulled the late shift. I’ll be at Jungle Jim’s tonight, watching all the sweaty midgets get high on e-numbers before bedtime. It’s no big deal: I’m used to it.
What I’m not used to is making lunch at my nan’s house. My nan lives very close to the party location, so I’ve escaped to grab a quick bite to eat…
…except it’s not proving to be quick. In fact, it’s proving practically bloody impossible.
‘Nan! Have you got any cheese?’
‘What’s that?’
‘CHEESE!’
‘I’ve got MY cheese. It’s in the fridge. You don’t have any of YOUR cheese here: you live somewhere else.’
‘Can I have some of yours?’
‘I don’t want to go out shopping tomorrow!’
‘You go out shopping EVERY day.’
‘Yeah, well, cheese isn’t f**king cheap.’
He’s Just Not That Into You
When I finally decided that my dog had some sort of mental health issue, I didn’t mess around. I immediately splashed the cash and called in the professional: a £ 50-per-day dog whisperer called Anita who lived on the borders of Kent and claimed to offer a life-changing service for pets AND their owners. This is the email I sent her:
Dear Anita
I’m worried about my dog. Could you please come out to my house for one day (at your usual rate) and give me a diagnosis on him? His name is Jake, he’s two years old, and he has a lot of other dogs as parents: we think he’s part spaniel, part labrador, part whippet and part terrier. Here is the list of things I’m worried about:
1. He looks at me as if he hates me (can you tell if he does by talking to him?)
2. He looks at my wife the same way.
3. He doesn’t get excited by ANYTHING except other people. Even when I feed him, he just mopes over the food.
4. He’s SO happy when I go out, it’s just ridiculous. As soon as I get my coat, he goes crazy. I thought it might be excitement about going for a walk, but he gets REALLY miserable again if I actually put a lead on him and take him out.
5. I’m starting to not like him, either. Can you tell him that?
Thanks in advance,
Mr D. Stone (call me Davey)