Well, as regular as it can be with my mother in law.
She is, on the face of it, a lovely 76 yr old, immaculately turned out and made up as she always is on a Sunday, and you'd never know what a nutjob she is - not in the demented sense - just plain nuts.And I love her to bits. I really really do.
After some technical analysis of all that is wrong with my dishwasher, she went on to tell us about something she'd heard on
'Bed bugs, no, hearts and bedbugs, bed stead bugs, oh I don't know... what is it now'
Mr PR said
'Try again slowly mum'
'Erm, bed hearts bugs'
'Could it have been Herts Beds Bucks the local radio station?' I said helpfully keen to end this as we'd still be at it now. This is the woman who calls a volvo a vulva, flamingos flamencos, prostate prostrate, and is going on a one day driving course next week to fend off her second 3 points for speeding. Not exactly regular grandma material.Wonderful!
'Oh yes. Well anyway there was this woman finding out about what happens at a crematorium. Ooh it was amazing'
Margaret has been to a few funerals, like most people of her generation But the fascination in her voice about the crem was a bit off-putting as I peeled the spuds. She may be a regular at the crem but honestly, she was like a kid relishing the gory details.
'Oh well it's terrible. Did you know they have to use a big mincing machine to crunch the big bones down? Obviously as you know some bones don't burn (she was directing this at Mr PR veteran of many burnt corpses obviously). And then they have to mulch it all up, apparently there's loads left over. I always thought the coffin wasn't burnt but it is once the nails have been taken out. Amazing. There's a man who takes out the teeth and pace makers and nails. Imagine a job like that?'
If' Id wanted to imagine there was no time because we were now onto this,
'I was walking Lucky (another dead friend this time a poodle) through Chipperfield cemetery and she came running up with a big bone. They were digging up graves for the new extension at the time and Bill said to me 'That's a leg bone Margaret. Lucky's got a leg bone. I felt quite sick about it' She didn't tell us what she did with the big bone, used it for stock probably she likes making her soups does Margaret.
Anyway Lucky old Lucky. It's not everyday you pop out for a walk and get a full grown femur to chomp on - alas her luck didn't hold as she was terminated in Spain after being shipped there with Margaret and Bill and hated the heat. As lucky dogs go she wasn't all that lucky except for the bone possibly...
We managed to get her off death onto her next favourite subject, the various swellings and strokes of her aging peer group. There is no amount of detail she won't go into. And then without any warning I was treated to the story of her late husband the senior Mr PR's circumcision at the age of 58 at Bushey bupa.
Mr PR winced - as did I
'More tea Margaret?'
'It's no good pulling faces Douglas it might happen to you one day - the foreskin was so tight over his penis it was extremely painful.' Mr PR was long gone. It must be uncomfortable hearing about a dead father's genitals, I was still reeling from the bone mincing machine at the crem.
There was more.
'And then as we were leaving the doctor gave me a little box with a bow on it. I didn't know what it was but when I got home and opened it I had quite a fright. It looked just like Frank's foreskin!! Isn't that funny? It wasn't though, I'm sure it was a bit of plastic'
I reached for the wine.
