I have spent my days off watching DVD's (Is it wrong of me to love Seth Green's character in The Italian Job? He makes me giggle every time he's onscreen) and not much else.
I sent my brother a envelope stuffed with a couple of pages from the Who magazine that were pictures of David Hasslehoff. My brother and I are odd - we love tacky things. The tackier the better. We love them because they are tacky, so we're not complete lost causes. He will love me for sending him these pictures. I am concerned slightly though, as my brother asked me for my postal address because he wants to send me something. He wouldn't tell me what he was sending me, and our parents know nothing about it, so he could be sending me anything from 1970's porn to a CD from some band I've never heard of to a book on eastern religions. I shall wait with baited breath (or is that bated breath? I can never remember. The first one looks like I'm trying to catch bass)
Also talked to my Nan. Which made me sad - she was very dottery. Told me four times in three mintues that my Dad had bought her a punnet of strawberries and they were very nice. And then she threw in that Mum bought her some oranges that were lovely, and by the way, Bill (my dad) had taken her around some strawberries which were lovely with a bit of sugar on them. And she sounded OLD. I know it didn't help that she rang me at 7pm and was probably very tired.
It always makes me sad to talk to Nan - she's had a hard life and it doesn't take anything at all to make her happy. I had sent her a card for her birthday, and she was incredibly happy to get it. I was the only grandchild to remember (there's 26 grand-kids and 5 great-grand kids), and she wanted to thank me. For Nan to ring is a big deal - Nan doesn't ring anybody (but that probably comes down to how many of us there are. She and Leo - my granddad. He died before I was born and I just can't call him granddad -were good Catholics and had 9 kids. Half the time we're impressed she can remember all our names. Heck, half the time the rest of us can't remember everyone's name!
It's hard to believe in this day and age, but when Nan moved into the Nursing Village the year before last after her stroke it was the first time in her life she lived somewhere with an indoor toilet. 82 years old and had to go to an outside dunny! It was her outdoor toilet where I got my frog phobia!
I miss Nan. I feel sorry for the youngest grandkids, because Nan is too old for them. I'm the fifth grand-kid (the eldest of us is about 34) and when we were young Nan was great. Now she gets annoyed when Georgia (the youngest at 2 and a half years) when she makes noise and runs around. Nan just doesn't have the patience for small people.
But anyway, that's all I did. Talk to Nan. Talk to brother. Watched DVD's. Read slash. A productive four days.
I promise next post will be more exciting. For starters - I shall be seeing T.B. tomorrow. Let's hope I don't say "Howdy" or throw him down on the floor and ravish him senseless