Hi Trainor Malone,

Thought you might be mildly amused by this anecdote...
I popped in on dear lovely Granathon on Sunday and caught her just as she was having lunch. It was a typical Blair special of banana on toast and the generous woman that she is offered to make me some. Of course there was a few potential hazards in this seemingly innocent act. Firstly the toast itself. Most older people I have found seem to like their toast cooked to the point of crunchy that I just can't be doing with. I got round this easy enough however by quickly pushing the abort button (to pop the toast up quicker than would have happened if left to it's own devices) when dear gran had her head stuck in the cupboard fumbling for a plate. The next part...butter! Why is it people of Gran's generation spread the butter on two inches thick? admittedly I don't mind it as much as when I was a kid and not only would the item in question be buttered to within an inch of it's life but also have the hidden delight of big squashy fly like sultanas that you wouldn't discover until you had claimed a baked good as your own and taken a huge bite in full view of many adults. I decided the butter I could let go and accept whatever came my way, at least it wasn't on fruit bread - a horror I have never managed to embrace. Finally it was time for the banana and I watched in despair as Gran peeled it from top to bottom without chopping any bits off. You know what that means...the brown bit was still attached! I couldn't help but think that prehaps my karma had finally come calling for when Kelli and I used to mash the brown bit in to your toast and not tell you until after you had eaten it. Yeah sorry about that. Anyway all I could do was watch carefully as to where the dreaded brown bit ended up and hope to hell I could remove it without detection when the toast was in my possession. (Dear Gran insisted she make the toast for me, despite my protests). In the end I can only hope I managed to remove the brown bit in it's totality! Love ya sis xox