This is what happened on Friday:
Rolling my eyes I trudged through the house. “What did I do this time?” I muttered.
Once in the same room, mum asked the most surprising question. “I just got off the phone to your grandmother. What did you write in your blog yesterday?”
“Oh shit! She read that?”
Just to re-cap I complained about the food, the lack of chairs available and the patronising comments which I expect on Saturday. And I called my grandmother the Devil.
Safe to say I am not the favoured grandchild. Though this is suddenly looking like a very fun and interesting early Christmas lunch. I wonder what else I could do to further anger my grandmother. In my defence I never thought she would read my blog. I guess I’m not as anonymous as I thought.
This is what happened on Saturday:
But it wasn’t so bad, I didn’t have to fake my death. My grandmother didn’t speak to me beyond barking an order to fill the dishwasher. My aunt couldn’t work out how the rest of us could be so informal during lunch. Her husband stared at the cricket on the television. The cousins were great fun (my mother’s cousins, so we don’t see them as often) in fact Rach and I sat together as the Old Maids of the family and poked fun at everyone around us.
I didn’t even drink half my vodka it was such a pleasant day.