I should have had this tattooed on my eyelids before I got married and it has nothing whatsoever to do with this blog post. I just thought it might be a helpful tip to put in the spinster's Hope Chest, you know the one, it has a new toothbrush, shiny razor and 12 dozen condoms. Actually this post complete with cute photo was going to be about why Polar Bears feet don't freeze but condensing 3 pages of New Scientist to something that makes sense isn't possible after a day at the home for death's door mothers who suddenly slam it shut.
She dreamt she died last night and someone else was in her bed when she came back. And why did she come back? Because I was holding her hand and touching the rings on her finger and saying, "I know you're in there, come out." I haven't told my sister this, she'd probably break every bone in both my hands. There was a whole lot of layers to this dream and whatever they're putting in those pain patches is obviously better than a foot long spliff and I saw the effects of that at the last party.
So the old girl's back in form and up playing bingo and cheating like crazy. Bingo is very serious stuff down in the 'hood. Competition for the biggest pile of chocolate wins is ruthless and a dead heat yelling 'bingo' is the stuff of duelling straight from the Prisoner of Zenda. Every one today had won 2 games each, 2 chocolate bars each and the last game was on. My mother is caller and her method of throwing the numbers in the general direction of the board confused everyone except her. Method in the madness, she was stacking the deck, as it were. Sticking the numbers together so her rival at the opposite end of the table had no chance of winning a third chocolate.
When I pointed out the stuck together numbers, I got a clunk on the arm with the numbers box (I am bruised) and a warning stare. I've never seen a high stakes poker game at Crown Casino but it couldn't have been more intense than with these hovering claws ready to drop the last plastic bottle top on the winning number. They play with large plastic green tops so they aren't confused with chocolates and a mass choking takes place. Rival E was distracted by the arrival of a friend and quick as a flash Ma scanned the table and produced a winning number for Mr G who got a vicious look from Rival E as he pocketed the last of the KitKats. I got another clunk for nearly exposing her brilliant strategy.