BBQ with criminals

And so today brings a return to my Mondays with the old duffer despite spending an enjoyable afternoon yesterday with him, Nanna and Uncle Ryan and a BBQ. A BBQ is the same as cooking but it's done outside in the garden, next to the road, surrounded by noise and flies - hundreds of flies. Please excuse my misunderstanding of this 'enjoyable' event but I fail to see the point. Grandad said we'd be cooking so I put my pinnie on and pushed the big chair up against the work top like I always do when we cook. I waited and waited and waited. Then I waited some more and even some more but no grandad. I strummed my fingers on the empty work top to the tune of Peppa Pig but still no grandad. All the foody stuff disappeared from the other work top and they took it outside. Why? We have a perfectly good oven in the kitchen, well maybe not quite perfect but it does the job. Millie came in and told me that grandad was outside so I lugged all my cooking tensils into the garden and there he was, all pinnied up and raring to go.

We made sausages sizzle and burgers burn, we cooked pork, chicken and steak whilst Nanna done some fishes that me and grandad unwrapped earlier. Nanna made some scrummy much rooms with some couscous (whatever that is) and cooked a salad and tatoes. When it was all nice and hot (not the salad though) we all sat down under grandad's big umbrolly - don't know why that was up because it was hardly likely to rain. Daddy came home from work just as grandad was leaving for his work which was nice because I don't think Nanna could cope with both of them AND Uncle Ryan all in one place.

Ah Nanna, this reminds me of something. Nanna is a law-biding soul and wouldn't hurt a fly apart from the ones she swapped at the BBQ. Apart from the serious Freddo the Frog incident, she has never been in trouble apart from when she married grandad. Picture the scene (properly, don't be rude); they we're laid in bed having a little lay in when the postie man dropped the usual stuff through the door. Nanna went down and picked it up then passed them to the semi-slumbering object on the bed. Grandad opened one from Banbury in Oxfordshire and grandad knows that letters from Banbury, Oxfordshire usually afford some reasonably urgent attention because that's where Thames Valley Police have their traffic office. The letter, duly addressed to him as the registered owner of a vehicle in their household - Nanna's car. Under the address and the registration of Nanna's car was the line; ROAD TRAFFIC - SPEEDING OFFENCE. Gracefully and somewhat gingerly, grandad passed the letter to Nanna for further inspection and she promptly threw it back at him accompanied by various words from a vocabulary of which I would know not what.

"So, where did THAT happen? And in my car?" she asked in a somewhat disgruntled tone.

Over their 30+ years of marriage (The Train Robbers were out in less!!), grandad has perfected the following line of self defence, a line that lost its true value about 25 years ago if not more.

"That's not right. It can't be real, I've not done this" he answered.

By this time Nanna was off the bed and off to the bathroom to run the bath. She'd heard this line on more times than she'd care to remember and was having none of this from the condemned man.

"It must've been you. Where was it? Always in my car" she said. To be honest, she wasn't cross but more likely a bit miffed. Then she asked him a question that was about to change the course of this conversation.

"When was it? Where was it?" she queried.

"Let me see.......... Ah, it says May 10th at 13.38" he said.

"And where were YOU on May 10th?" Nanna obviously replied.

"I'm not sure. May 10th? Hmmmm. May 10th? Ah..." he said as his mind clicked into gear and sprang to his defence. He continued. "......I remember. May 10th at 13.38, I was probably on the tenth"

"Yes..." said Nanna, "....we know it was the 10th"

"Yes, on May 10th at 13.38 I was in or near the vicinity of the tenth hole, maybe the eleventh at the Minehead and West Somerset Golf Club. That was my weekend away with the lads and this, my precious dear beloved, is YOUR speeding ticket!!!!"

If only Oscar Pistorious had a memory and an alibi like grandad!!!!

Nanna then went into a state of giggles and concern all at the same time. She stated that she's never been stopped before and grandad, very thoughtfully I think, pointed out that she hasn't been stopped as this was a camera. The various thoughts running through the guilty party included; Will I have to go to court? Will they stop me driving? Will I get points on my licence? (And the funniest one) Will this go on my school record?

Grandad pointed out that there are a number of ways of dealing with this including points and a fine, doing a Driver Awareness Course and immigrating to Australia or New Zealand. Nanna then came out with a line straight out of grandad's world famous quote book (and a similar edition to be published by Uncle Ryan) as she said "DON'T TELL THE KIDS". On reassuring her that she won't be needing a fitting session for a bright orange Guantanamo Bay-style boiler suit, Nanna resigned herself to that fact that she's now a criminal.

Yesterday, Monday and grandad came to get me and after a play in the garden, he got me putting some pasta onto a shoelace!! Grandad plays a few tricks on people and gets his fair share back but I have no idea what this was all about. Is was quite easy peasy lemon squeezy and whilst I found it hard to understand what he was up to, a carried out my little task with not a care in the world. About dinner time, instead of satisfying my needs of a hearty lunch, we headed to Nanna's school to look at some chicks that had just smashed some eggs like I do. This seemed like a déjà vu moment which is French for 'been there, done it, got the T-shirt' because I came in last year when I wore a younger mans clothes. Nanna and Teacher Dolly were playing a joke on all the kids at school because there were these little yellow fluffy balls with legs and they told the kids they were chickens. I'm much smarter than those kids because I know for a fact that chicken come in packets from Tesco and Sainsburys and we do the shake, shake, shake baggy thing for dinner sometimes. Those poor kids are being fed duff info and I think that's really cruel. Having said that, the so-called chicks were quite cute.

After the school trip, we headed back to England where grandad lives but before I knew what was going on, I was fast asleep and woke up in my house. Hey, another major chapter: today I was in big-boy pants and apart from a little dribble, I was fine. Grandad told me not to worry about the little dribble as he does it all the time.

Another good day with grandad, Millie and Uncle Ryan and I'm going to need to keep an eye on grandad because he'll need some help when nanna goes to prison.

Pożegnanie teraz (as the say at Nanna's school)

Dogg