Mother and me good self looked half decent as we banged our way from the farthest end of the rain sodden hospital car park to the Anti-Coag hang out.
Blast it all Madam I thought as some stiff haired, cruise loving, bitter lipped 70 something jostled behind us as we lined up to pay for mum's papers.
I didn't turn a hair, not one, but secretly inside I hoped some awful thing would happen to the impatient old trout.

I smiled a defiant rather saucy red lipped smile at old Mr Huptihambangaringy on the till, him smiling back as he grabbed me tenner. Change? £2 something or other...
The price of chick's mags is outrageous but ma needs her fix of fashion, latest cushion styles and home made remedies for older folk.

We diddo the blood bizzo and left the car park with a wise old me giving way and smiling at every driver under 70.

Driving. Excellent. To Co-Op for stewing beef. Now home to make a large scone pizza for mum and me to waffle down whilst watching some old murder flick.