Tag Archives: grandmother

1124. Something dear

Ann sat in class hidden away like a little snail in a garden of noisy cabbages. Everyone took part in the class discussions, but Ann was too shy. She rarely spoke, and when she did the teacher would always say, “Speak up.”

The class were given a writing assignment: Write about something dear to you.

Ann’s grandmother had just died. Ann had not told a soul at school, but she thought for her assignment she would write about her grandmother.

She did that.

“This” said the teacher “is full of sloppy sentiment. I didn’t believe a word of it. You should’ve written about something dear to you in real life and not pretended to be writing a mawkish load of nonsense for a cheap romance. I’m giving it a FAIL because the person you described comes across as a slushy mushy figure of idiocy.”

Ann smiled and continued to hate school.

(Footnote: I have the flu so will be lying low for the next couple of days. Of course, being male, I feel it so much worse).

1034. Dudley comes to stay

Don’t get me wrong, Granny loved having her grandchildren come to stay. One at a time, you understand. At her age the last thing she wanted was to be worn to a frazzle looking after a large brood of pre-schoolers. She had fourteen grandchildren in all, but not all of them were little.

So little Dudley (“I’m going to be four in two months”) came to stay. Just for a day and a night.

It was ten in the evening. Granny had just gone to bed and turned out the bedside light, when a little voice next to her head said, “Granny can I get into bed with you? I feel sick.”

“Of course you can, dear,” said Granny.

Dudley’s breath was wheezy. He fell asleep cuddled up to Granny. Granny lay awake all night listening. In the morning Dudley was better.

“Thank you, Granny,” said Dudley as he kissed her goodbye.

“I love having you stay with me,” said Granny. But, oh, she was tired, so very tired.