Just a Sunday afternoon quickie!
Sorry to harp on about my estranged granddaughter but this is worth telling.
If you read the last Blog you will remember I said my granddaughter was named Blossom Hill – after the Californian wine. My mother was not aware of this fact and when she saw a bottle of BH in Morrison’s in Pontefract she was gobsmacked. What a coincidence, she thought as she shoved a bottle under her coat.
On arriving home she noted BH’s London address and sent them a letter plus a photograph of BH as a cute 18-month-old. She had done this sort of thing before but that’s a story on its own for another day. *
She received a letter back from London by return of post which went something along the following lines…
“Dear Mrs Beach
What a wonderful way to start a Monday morning with a beautiful picture of you Great-Granddaughter which we will be forwarding on to our head office in California. I thought – oh no – not again – as will be revealed in the tale mentioned above”. *
Mary, never one to miss an opportunity, had mentioned in her letter that she had almost reached four score years. The letter fom the capital had mentioned that there would be something going to arrive to help her celebrate he 80th birthday.
A few days later, a parcel van pulled up outside Mary’s old-folks-bungalow and the driver carried a huge cardboard-box down Mary’s path. On investigation, it was discovered the box contained six bottles of red, six bottles of white and six bottles of bubbly. Have a nice day!
I think this is a great tale and I have told it many times. The best reaction I ever got was from a lady named Ros who lived in Castleford, West Yorkshire. Her response was “Fuckin’ ‘ell, I wished they’d called me Woodpecker Cider!”.
Cas’ lasses. you can’t beat ’em. Well maybe them from Fev. The saying goes: –
Featherstone – where men are men – and so are t’women.
BTW – me mam paid for t’wine. A worr on’y kidding.