When I first met Janet I claimed I lived in Sale Barns and referred to Urmston as Outer Partington. In a similar vain I used to joke that I wouldn’t use buses until they had a specified 1st-class section, in fact the whole problem with public transport was the public element. How times have changed; now we see the tram as a special treat if it’s for anything less than three stops.
Apparently though this snobbery is hereditary, as exemplified by Sonny on Monday. I’d asked a waitress which fresh juices they had, and when she offered him the choice of orange or apple he replied,
“Is it proper posh apple juice?”
Later in the day when we were building a den in the front room he suddenly proclaimed
“I don’t want a den daddy, can I have a gazebo please?”
Short of somewhere free to go, and having recently used Toys R Us as a playgroup once too often, we decided on a trip to the Willowpool Garden Centre in Knutsford.… Read the full post