A letter from Gran
I was just sat down this morning for a cup of tea and an arrowroot biscuit when the postman pushed his bundle through my front flap. Quite an eclectic mix this morning. A final demand for a gentleman's support I bought on a whim when I went through those dizzy spells, an invitation to Lee and Geoffs for a Sunday buffet (no mention of whether its a stand up running or a sit down fingers) and a letter from my Gran. She's not been herself lately and now she's in the cottage hospital.
Dear Grandson
As you will see I am in hospital again.
This time I am in traction and strung up in a very strange way. My right leg is connected to my left arm by overhead pulleys and my left leg is connected to my right arm by overhead pulleys, which means that it's a bit difficult to write this letter because every time I put my left leg down my right arm shoots up in the air and I lose my pen. I have tried writing on my side but if I do I usually finish up with my left arm between my legs and my right leg around the back of my neck. In fact last night I went to scratch myself and did a complete somersault. I think I've put myself back about three weeks.
Mind you, the woman in the next bed is worse off than I am, because although she's strung up like me she's on a waterbed. She only has to sneeze and she's up and down like a fiddlers elbow. The worst thing is meal times. Every time her knife slips the air is full of peas and carrots, to say nothing of gravy. We had rice pudding yesterday and half of it is still on the ceiling! So you musn't grumble I suppose, there is always someone worse off than ourselves.
Much love, Gran x x
PS. They're just coming round with Lancashire hotpot, I'm putting my umbrella up!
Oh what a woman she is my Gran, she's 89 and her youngest daughter is 24. She would have been older but my Grandad had a stutter.
Dear Grandson
As you will see I am in hospital again.
This time I am in traction and strung up in a very strange way. My right leg is connected to my left arm by overhead pulleys and my left leg is connected to my right arm by overhead pulleys, which means that it's a bit difficult to write this letter because every time I put my left leg down my right arm shoots up in the air and I lose my pen. I have tried writing on my side but if I do I usually finish up with my left arm between my legs and my right leg around the back of my neck. In fact last night I went to scratch myself and did a complete somersault. I think I've put myself back about three weeks.
Mind you, the woman in the next bed is worse off than I am, because although she's strung up like me she's on a waterbed. She only has to sneeze and she's up and down like a fiddlers elbow. The worst thing is meal times. Every time her knife slips the air is full of peas and carrots, to say nothing of gravy. We had rice pudding yesterday and half of it is still on the ceiling! So you musn't grumble I suppose, there is always someone worse off than ourselves.
Much love, Gran x x
PS. They're just coming round with Lancashire hotpot, I'm putting my umbrella up!
Oh what a woman she is my Gran, she's 89 and her youngest daughter is 24. She would have been older but my Grandad had a stutter.
posted by Brad Fitt at 3:07 PM
1 Comments:
I like the sound of your gran. She sounds bonkers!
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