Gram: Oh, that is good, dear. What colour is it?
Me: Black.
Gram: *crickets*
Me: You don’t like black?
Gram: No. I don’t like black or green.
Me: Really? Those are my two absolute favourite colours.
Gram: I like red.
Me: Yes, Mom has a nice red colour car, doesn’t she?
Gram: *crickets*
Me: What, you don’t like the colour of her car, either?
Gram: No. I like FIRE ENGINE red.
I adore this woman.
So awesome… but what makes this post SOOO awesome is the photo.
And from the look of things so would I. Though my own car is a very dull silver.
Old people and their quirky ways…
It’s never good enough, is it! 😆
Ha! I adore that photo! Your Gran sounds fun!
what!? i would have never guessed. great post!
Okay, I cannot believe I am about to post this in your comments, but someone sent me this poem back before the days of e-mail chain letters, when these things actually got circulated by (gasp!) paper, and I have always remembered it and always loved it.
WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
(By Jenny Joseph)