a chat with Gran

I’m just waiting for my eggs to boil. Eight minutes, rapid boiling mind, as I want them for my lunch tomorrow. Did I tell you about tomorrow? I’m sure I did, you must have forgotten. The Probus group are all going out to Matamata for Shirley Henderson’s roses. Beautiful white ones she has, I’ve never been able to get them bushy like she does. Not worth a thirty minute drive mind, but very nice they are. Her peonies are a dag though, they wilt like anything! Nothing like mine. Did you see them when you arrived? In the driveway? You haven’t said anything yet. How are the potatoes? They’re from the garden too. Nice waxy new potatoes, they’re good boiled like this. Don’t you think? Come on, eat up. You’re looking very thin, what have you been eating? Well do you know what Liam said to me the other day? That he’s never had new potatoes like mine! What do you think of that? Your old gran, best new potatoes in town. And from him too, the grocer! Oh goodness the eggs are boiling over, why didn’t you tell me?

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