Alright. Sorry if I'm a bit late. My Grandfathers funeral was today, so I nearly didn't make it. Wish I'd had time to change though. STOOD WEARING A LONG BLACK CLOAK.
Just to get it out of the way. I am not the grim reaper. This is from a fancy dress shop. I thought it would be "funny" to wear this and hang around by the funeral cars pointing at people and pretending to write their names down. Unfortunately a bearer dropped out so I had to lend a hand. My Great aunty Doris took one look at me carrying the coffin and keeled over. I now have to attend another funeral next week. To make matters worse I got egg mayo down the front of me, so I'll probably lose my deposit as well.
I seem to be surrounded by death lately. My grandfather's beloved dog died last week and then he died shortly after. I like to think that he died of a broken heart, But it was probably when they both got pulled under that bus that did it. What can I say? I'm a romantic.
It's a shame though. The family bought Gladys for him after my Nan died, so he wouldn't get lonely. He named the dog Gladys, after my Nan. He even insisted we call her Nana. Which took a bit of getting used, but once they gave the dog a blue rinse and forced it to wear horned rimmed glasses it kinda seemed natural. He said, ‘just treat her like you would your real Nan', so every pension day I'd spike her tea and rob £30 from her purse.
It did cause a bit of a stir with the neighbours at first. Especially the ones at number 43. They'd been on holiday when my Nan had died. So when they got back and heard the Grandkids shouting from the kitchen "Grandad, Nana's pee'd on the floor again" and my Grandfather reply "Well rub her bloody nose in it then, and throw her in the garden." Social services were around in no time.
My Grandfather became very attached to Nana the dog. To him it was like my Nan was still alive. I remember going round one Sunday afternoon for lunch. He had just come home from the pub drunk and in a foul mood. Nana just give him one of her patented looks that said "oh, you are a fool, but I do love you so", and carried on making the dinner.
They say poodles are supposed to be stupid. Not Nana. She could cook a roast with the best of them. A bit heavy handed with the salt in my opinion, but top notch besides that. But on this particular day my Grandfather found fault with everything. He stomped around the house shouting things like "Why is this house not as clean as it used to be?" "Why don't you darn my socks anymore?" "Why don't you enjoy anal sex like you used to?"
The school did have to stop my grandfather from sending nana to pick us though. The teachers said it wasn't safe, even if nana was wearing a high vis vest. Looking back now, they probably had a point. Perhaps a toy poodle isn't the best person to walk a 4 and a 6 year old home along a 2 mile stretch of busy road, but it was exciting for us kids. Even when a Jack Russell mounted nana from behind we were excited. I don't mean in a pervy way. I wasn't getting off on watching my Nana getting f**ked outside the Co Op. And I don't care what the therapist thinks either! He was relentless that Jack Russell. No wonder my Grandfather always looked knackered when we went round, if that's what he had to put up with every night. I mean the stamina in Nana was unbelievable! She couldn't get enough. The slag.