Or not, as the case may be...
I've been a tad busy this week, mostly decorating the flat that Mr U-t-B's eldest daughter is about to move into. It's a long story, but the flat happens to be next door, which is rather convenient.
This morning I needed some paint stripper, some scraper blades, a ventilation grille and a couple of tins of paint, so I headed off to the local Homebase. I made an effort - changed out of my paint splattered clothing, put a bit of mascara on, brushed my hair, wore my nice olive-green coat and boots with a bit of heel. You know - I looked presentable (and pretty much how I do every day).
I had a very pleasant browse amongst all that Homebase had to offer and left the till with just what I'd set out to buy (always an achievement) plus a couple of colour chart books and a sample of wallpaper.
With two large tins of paint in one hand and the bag with the rest in the other, when I saw the man shaking the charity tin at the door, I muttered an apology about not having any cash handy, then suddenly remembered I had a coin in my coat pocket from using a B and Q trolley. So I turned on my heels and told the man I had a coin lurking somewhere deep in my pocket.
I proceeded to rummage fruitlessly for a moment or two, then, just as I pulled the coin from the receipt- and shopping-list-filled pocket and dropped it into his tin, he said:
"Secret pocket, eh? Is that where you keep things to hide them from the grandchildren?"
Luckily for him, it took a few moments for his words to register, otherwise he might have got a sharp kick in the shin!
PS I do know that lots of grandmothers these days are extremely glamorous and that one can easily and legally be one around the age of 32 (mind you, I am quite a few years on from that), but I bet the glamorous 32 year old grandmas don't have complete strangers assuming they have grandchildren!