Monday, 24 April 2017


So I’m pleased to announce that I’m fully better and absolutely fighting fit after my virus the other week. Go me! With my newly found zest for life renewed by my illness. Yes, I know it was just a tummy bug but I’m going for a dramatic epiphany moment here, so please play along with me. Following my poorly belly I’m now looking for love! It’s what we all want right? I’m no exception to this rule and after my brush with death (more drama) I feel the time is now to carpe diem/seize the day and go after what I want romance wise.
   I know I have my two boys Watson and Billy from down the road and although they are both extremely handsome, they are more play mates than anything else. What I am after is someone totally on my wave length and someone who knows the trials, tribulations and rigours of living in the public eye. A man who is comfortable with social media and its many trappings. I think I may have just found him!

This wonderful chap seems more than confident in front of the camera and with having the spotlight shone brightly on his wet little nose. My only concern is that he lives in a notoriously dangerous area of Manchester. 
   Now as you all know I’m originally from a mean and badass city environment myself. However my paws have gotten so used to walking the rural pathways. I just don’t know if I’m altogether street wise enough these days to contemplate a long distance relationship with someone who lives in such a scary area. His street is a hive of criminal activity as well as there being a tram crash there a few years back. I suppose I’m only small and I can move quite quickly, so evading the next speeding vehicle hopefully won’t be too much of a problem for me. There is just the matter of all these murders on one road alone since 9th December 1960 and the fact that his newly adopted family did bury a body under their annexe. Mind you the press said he was a gangster and there were extenuating circumstances. So paws crossed I should be safe then?
Anyway I must tell you more about David, the new love of my life. I spotted him a few weeks back when Mama J was watching the television and my eyes nearly popped out of my head, he’s just scrumptious as Mary Berry would put it. He is an absolutely gorgeous Yorkshire Terrier just like me. Tick, there’s one thing we have in common already! He was gifted in a will to his new owner, also named David. His previous owner had liked David so much when he did her hair at his salon she named her precious dog after him. What a lovely chap David the person must be! Surely he wouldn’t call his Mum by her first name, Gail all the time and once throw her down the stairs. He wouldn’t cover up a murder or scar an innocent lady as he tried to drive a car full of petrol to a court building, in the hope of blowing it up and mortally injuring another man. Poor Anna what did she ever do to David?

So if you haven’t guessed already I’m more than a bit smitten with David the dog on Coronation Street. Although my family are getting worried as I keep going on Mama J’s Facebook and typing in Coronation Street just to see the latest images of him. When I’m not doing that I’m watching the last weeks episodes on repeat just to get a fleeting glance of him and his cute Yorkshire Terrier features. I’ve even found the pause and rewind buttons on the remote control so I can take in his full splendour, over and over again! I now know how all these teenage girls felt about One Direction when they were in their prime. Oh he does make my heart flutter!
   I’m thinking of writing him a love letter to tell him how I feel and also what I can offer in terms of my dazzling, carefree and funny personality. Not to mention my social standing, as I’m a girl who can handle publicity as well as offer him support with all his media attention too. I also feel I can offer him sanctuary if living with the Platt’s eventually gets too much for him. I would hate for my poor love David to be in any danger.
Right folks I’m off to beautify myself for 7.30pm and 8.30pm should I catch a glimpse of the lovely David in tonight’s double bill. Although I do think they maybe concentrating on who pushed stalwart Ken Barlow down the stairs!

Sunday, 16 April 2017


Now remember my diva turn last time I blogged. “Which one?” I hear you all cry. Okay you all thought I was getting too big for my Yorkshire Terrier pawed booties. Well, a lot can happen in just under a week. Especially with regard to my stomach!
   It turns out that I wasn’t being rude to my food at all. Sorry to my usual very expensive (so Mama J tells me) brand of dog food but just like the Loreal television commercials says, “I’m worth it!” and of course so are you, you scrumptious bowl full of yummy delight! Think I’ve just about managed to excuse myself for turning my hog up at my dinners.
On Monday we (that is my collective family) all thought that I was over my strop and turning back to the light/good side of eating all of my breakfasts and dinners up once more. However the evil that was lurking in my gut had other ideas on Tuesday morning. This evil was pure demonic and bubbled in my belly like hell on earth. Oh I’m quite good at creating dramatic effect. Perhaps a role on Line Of Duty’s writing team could beckon? Although I don’t know whether my nerves could take it even if I was in the “know” twisting plot wise.
   Granny put my bowl of grub out and I didn’t surface from my bed, which is in fact a shared bed between Granny, Grandpa and I. We like to keep it cosy in our house! Granny decided to take me out (Paddy McGuinness sadly was not included and we just went down the lane not to the Isle Of Fernando's) for my walk and then try me with a bit of breakfast when we got back. 
   On my return I still didn’t want any of my usual food so Granny decided rice and chicken was the order of the morning. To us doggie folk rice and chicken is like a human having chicken soup or in Mama J’s case a chucky egg and soldiers when we’re ill. It’s meant to be good for the stomach.
   I managed to keep it down and at lunchtime I was hassling Granny for more rice. She obliged in giving me a little bit more before my afternoon walk and all was going well until we got part way down the road with my new friend Bentley and then… Blurrrrr! I was sick again. Granny gave my apologises to Bentley’s Mum and assured her that I wasn’t hungover at 4.20 in the afternoon. I might be a social media starlet but Mama J’s non rock and roll lifestyle really has rubbed off on me far too much. I might throw my toys around the living room but no televisions have ever gone through any windows!
   Once we got home I had mad fit on the sofa, rolling around, legs akimbo and then I ended up having a proper fit when I got so excited at seeing our neighbour walking down her driveway. Honestly the things that make me go all peculiar. Yes, my back legs just gave way and I began to tremble. My seizure only lasted a few moments and Granny’s voice, cuddles and love soothed me through it all. 
   Granny had to tell Mama J when she got home from work and then Grandpa when he got in too and it was decided (they do an awful lot of deciding in my house) that if I wasn’t right in the morning that I was off to the Vets.
That night I was like a Jack In The Box jumping on and off the bed. I’d go sit on the landing and at one point ran down the stairs and waited at the back door for Granny to let me out to be sick again. My stomach was moaning and groaning like a scene from the Fifty Shades Of Grey movies (oh I’m being blue today) and I still didn’t want my breakfast on Wednesday morning. Decisive action was taken and I was off to the Vets that afternoon.
   When we arrived the Veterinary Nurse was sorting out the rotas for the afternoon clinic as the morning clinic was abandoned due to all the Vets being called out on an emergency. After being given the name of three Vets that would be seeing me, (I hope they weren’t drawing straws in the operating theatre. I’m not that bad now they’ve learnt to muzzle me before giving me the once over) I ended up with a very kindly Vet examining me and he said that he thought I had a virus in my tummy. See I’m not a fickle diva after all. He advised Mama J and Granny to feed me a dessert spoonful of food every couple of hours and see how I got on. He said to do this for the next five days.

Anyway I’m pleased to announce that following my Vets visit I was feeling so much brighter by Thursday evening. I’m now back on my normal eating regime and also managed to gain some extra doggie sausage treats in the process. Result!

Happy Easter, all you lovely people.

Monday, 10 April 2017


I must start with a heartfelt apology to all my readers for doing a Jean-Claude Van Damme on them  and going AWOL last week. I am referring to Jean-Claude’s character in the movie although I haven’t gone missing in action from the Foreign Legion. So my crimes aren’t too bad and hopefully I won’t be getting court marshalled just yet!
   My absence of typing this wonderful comedy tale was due to the drilling and banging sounds coming from the kitchen area. No, folks Mama J isn’t turning into a frustrated Chef. Sorry I was under the impression that all Chef’s were slightly frustrated/hot headed/bad tempered buggers. She hasn’t brought out her inner Delia and learnt how to stressfully boil an egg.
   The banging was the kitchen fitters moving cupboards, removing tiles and putting new electrical points in ready for Granny’s (notice I said Granny’s and not Mama J’s, she won’t be going anywhere near the cooker unless Granny is away) new Everhot cooker which will be getting its grand unveiling in a few weeks time. Someone please call the local Mayor for rope cutting duties and I’ll send out a press release.
   Anyway I couldn’t get myself in the zone at all for writing as the noise wasn’t at all intuitive with doing creative work of the comedy turn variety. I’m sure Peter Kay, French and Saunders and Miranda Hart couldn’t pull off amusing greatness with bang, bang, bang going on. Therefore I don’t see why I should have to. Even though I am still trying to cut my comedy teeth as it were!
I’m turning into a bit of a social media celebrity (I have over 500 Instagram followers and counting) and if they ever make the Yorkshire version of TOWIE or Made In Chelsea, I’m there! However until that point of television stardom beckons, I must say my local villagers have noticed my talents with the written word. I “pawed” a piece for our village newsletter which went as follows:-

If you don’t already know me my name is Elsie, I’m a Yorkshire Terrier and I’m a barkaholic! I was adopted from the RSPCA in December 2014 and brought to the village by my new family. I had them wrapped around my little paw the minute I ran around them all and licked each of their ears in the socialisation area. I’m a girl who knows how to work a room to maximum effect.
Marble, the families Cocker Spaniel and my furry companion, showed me the ropes (mainly where the treat cupboard was and how to howl for lasagne every fortnight) until sadly he passed away last February, when I became top dog, a role I feel I’m exceptionally good at.
I’m very selective when it comes to making friends with other pooches as a lot of you may know, due to my lack of socialisation as a puppy, protectiveness of my family, a bad experience or whatever today’s reasoning behind my barking may be. I was put in therapy by my family which involved a lot of clicking (but not the penny dropping kind) and cheese, lots of yummy cheese! Although I must be a complex soul as it can depend on the weather, a full moon or my mood as to how I react towards another four legged frenemy.
I have a few doggie mates now who have gotten passed my noisiness (ear defenders do work a treat) and seen my loveable side, however I would ask if the rest of you could bear with me as I’m still a work in progress.

This article has gone down an absolute storm in the village and as I have been walking around the vicinity with my Granny and Grandpa I have been getting high praise from the public on my writing skills. William Shakespeare clearly didn’t have anything on me.
However fame has come at a high price for my ever loving family and this has happened in the form of a downturn in my behaviour. As my family have been eating out more, due to their lack of a cooker and then bringing me tit bits home from their meals (yes the customary doggie bag) and also bringing home cooked chickens from the supermarket. I have started not to want to eat my usual dog food without any meaty/cheesy enhancements.
   On Saturday morning I could smell a waft of left over chicken coming from inside the fridge as Granny opened the door to get my usual tinned food out. She prepared my breakfast and I refused to eat it and instead kept turning around and staring at the fridge door then back at Granny.
   When I got back from my morning stroll with Grandpa I decided that starving myself might not be the answer and decided to eat my breakfast. I’d never save the world by going on hunger strike for an animal/human rights cause would I? My bellies urges would get the better of me in the end.
   Granny was concerned at first as she thought I might be feeling unwell especially due to the fact that I was sick on Wednesday afternoon. However this was more of an excitement sickness due to Mama J bringing me a Good Boy Lob It Space Lobber home from the pet store. At first I assaulted (please don’t call the Police I really am sorry) Mama J by chucking in at her head then I got myself so worked up I spewed all over a cushion. I’m such a grateful madam!
   Also I was sick again on Saturday afternoon due to a bit of steak Grandpa brought home from the pub being slightly too rich for me. This time I projectile vomited all over Granny’s trousers.
   However my not eating has been of the purely diva nature as I have continued looking at the fridge and then Granny throughout the last few days. My family have cottoned onto this behaviour and Mama J is actually very impressed!
   She said she thinks my behaviour is a stroke of pure genius and she’s wondering whether they do a Mensa test for pooches. Now can I have another tasty treat for been a clever girl?

Monday, 27 March 2017


Today we went on an adventure! Yes, folks I’m back home now with my family all in tact and the kettle has been on already for a warming brew. So no we aren’t the Bear Grylls, Steve Backshall or Ray Mears type of adventurous explorers where a trek can last for weeks on end. Especially not Mama J who moans when it gets too hot, moans when it gets too cold and moans when she doesn’t have her life style luxuries, especially a toilet on cue around every roadside corner! We found Tesco in Filey has a fine one though so she was just about okay on that front barring the mad Supermarket Sweep dash into the shop to find it. Dale Winton would’ve been so proud of her speedy nature around that store!
We have been on a “family day” to the seaside, I know those words send a shudder down most peoples bodies. The idea that family fun has to be regimented really isn’t much fun at all. Well, that’s what Granny said before we set off anyhow. Grandpa was the organiser of this expedition and I however was a very willing participant indeed. Having said that Mama J and Granny needed some, no sorry lots of extra motivation along the way and that was just to get them both into the car this morning. Now you’d have thought we were going on a six months trek to The Himalayas as he was packing the car up not a two hour trip to Filey. He was insisting that Granny wore her walking boots or her wellies because the pebbles on the beach maybe a little bit steep to climb up today. Granny being a rebellious sort just stuck with her ordinary day boots, oh the defiance! He was also telling them to put extra clothes on and they both smugly laughed in his face and told him they were both adults and knew how to dress themselves. 
   May I move on two hours and Mama J was nearly in tears? No correction on that statement as tears were actually streaming down her face as she was moaning on and on that she couldn’t feel her feet, legs, face and fingers. Now Mama J, Grandpa can give you some excellent lessons in dressing yourself to combat the elements. It all starts with running upstairs to your bedroom and putting some more clothes on! Mama J’s face was such a picture that Granny threatened to take a photograph and put it on all her social media accounts. This however didn’t happen as Mama J insisted that she was so cold that she would’ve given Frozen’s Elsa a run for her money in the freezing the planet with a frosty look and a wave of her blue fingers front.  
I on the other paw was absolutely in my element. I did extremely well with the other dogs that were off their leads and on the beach. I got sniffed at by two dogs at the same time and only batted an eyelash when one of them tried to get friendly with my bum. Honestly take me back to the Victorian era when gentlemen doggies had some manners and knew how to behave around a lady! While Granny and Mama J walked along the sea front, Grandpa and I headed for the real Baywatch action. No not Mitch Buchannon’s life guard tower but the waves. If we’d have had our swimming costumes on we’d have been diving in there. However we had to settle for a sedate paddle. Oh I loved the wind blowing through my Yorkshire Terrier hair and the mixture of sand and sea between my paws and claws.
Once we were done splashing around it was up to one of the many cafes on the sea front to order a hot chocolate and of course some scrumptious fish and chips. When in Rome eh? My family all drank their hot chocolates with the wind bracing at their faces, however once they’d waited for their fish and chips to arrive Mama J could take no more of the cold. She was off like a bat out of hell back to the car. For someone who couldn’t feel her feet or legs she made pretty good use of them. We (yes I even had a nibble on Grandpa’s piece of fish and a few of Mama J’s chips) ate the seaside’s yummy offerings back in the car and then it was time to come back home with me snuggled up on Mama J’s lap all the way, dreaming of our next coastal adventure.

Monday, 20 March 2017


So Mama J and I thought we’d recreate the 1991 hit movie Thelma and Louise last Wednesday morning. Minus sadly the newly single Brad Pitt and more fortunately the cliff, phew on that one! Although we did have to escape up a hill in a churchyard but more about that in a minute.
   Granny and Grandpa were out at a funeral so Mama J and I thought we’d go out and have some fun in the spring sun. As Mama J slipped on her coat, I at first thought I was going to be abandoned in the dining room with only the radio’s playlist for company then she went into my lead and coat cupboard. Yes, folks I have so many coats now courtesy of Mama J that I need a cupboard of my own to store them in. Ah being a doggie with a “wardrobe” makes life so marvellous for me, a style loving girl. With my harness and lead firmly in place and no coat required due to the warm temperatures we were off down the driveway to Mama J’s yellow Mini Cooper, Primrose. I do love a ride in Primrose so much.
We drove for about ten minutes to a local village’s park area, where we both jumped out the car for a wander around. Although we didn’t go to the park due to other dogs being exercised there. As you know I’m developing relationships with the dogs in my village, so Mama J thought we’d better not push things too much by adding pooch “friendships” in other villages. Instead we did a full on tour of all the village’s cul-de-sacs. In fact I think Mama J and I could do some amateur photography and produce a book on North Yorkshire’s cul-de-sacs. This could be an additional hobby for trainspotters, just not the Ewan McGregor (Mark Renton) kind. We explored every avenue of the cul-de-sacs and at one point we had to hide behind a blue car as there was a Westie passing the end of the road and Mama J didn’t want me to see it. On another cul-de-sac Mama J pointed to the ground and actively encouraged me to sniff the pavement and the air as she could hear then see dogs barking up ahead. We stayed sniffing (me the ground and Mama J the fresh air) until the coast was clear and we walked back to Primrose and started the engine to continue our road trip.
We started heading back towards home and Mama J shouted excitedly, “Wave at Magi, Radar and Monica!” Okay Mama J who are they? Mama J looked at me and saw the confusion on my Yorkshire Terrier face so she had to explain that we were passing the stables where she learnt to horse ride. I wanted to go meet her former Riding Instructor Magi as she sounds so lovely although Mama J thought I might not want to meet the horses in the stables so much if we had gone there.
   When The Cheltenham Festival was on the telly the other day, Mama J had a flash back due to horse-cam. Mama J explained that horse riding really is as scary or fun depending on your fear threshold as it looked from the horses back.
However we didn’t go back home just yet as we drove down to another village in our beautiful area. We pulled up just around the corner from the churchyard and got out of the car to the sound of drills and diggers. As we walked passed the Builders Mama J and I (two gorgeous girls) were slightly disappointed not to get a wolf whistle. Perhaps these Builders had been watching the Sally Metcalfe sexism storyline on Coronation Street and thought better of it.
   We headed up the road where we spotted a golden labrador in the distance so we decided to hotfoot it into the churchyard and to a high vantage point at the top of the yard where we could spy sorry watch and wait until the labrador was minimum safe distance away.
   Once the labrador coast was clear we headed up a dirt track and then over a metal bridge. I was not intimidated by the bridge although Mama J tiptoed on the concrete to the side of it, she feared she might get her foot stuck between the metal in a clumsy Frank Spencer manner. As we got to the top of the track there were two donkeys waiting to say a nay of hello to me. Mama J knowing that the donkeys were safely behind a large fence let me go and have a closer look. However as they spotted me they started to get a bit giddy. Oh the effect I have on other animals is simply magical! Their giddiness then spurred me on and I started barking at my two new friends. Mama J thought we’d better head back towards Primrose at this point as we didn’t want to be witness to the donkey version on The Grand National.

As we got back to Primrose I had a diva strop (yes another one) as Mama J wanted to go home for a lovely cup of tea along with a Malted Milk biscuit but I wanted to stay out and explore some more. In the end Mama J had to lift me back into Primrose as I had well and truly put my paw brakes on. Mama J has promised me more trips out very soon and believe me I’ll be holding her to that promise.

Monday, 13 March 2017


Mama J went to the hospital last Thursday for a routine check-up on her heart. As soon as she opened the appointment letter she got palpitations and continued having them on and off right up until her appointment, three weeks later. Has Dr Doug Ross transferred from the ER and into a hospital right here in the UK? I reckon he must’ve done to give her chest moving action like that!
   On the day of her check-up Mama J went into a cold and clammy sweat. I don’t think Dr Doug would be very impressed by that glamorous look or feel as he gave her an examination. She sat at the opposite end of the sofa to where she normally sits and then kept jumping up and down randomly. Was she going to find out whether she had ants in her pants? Or was she auditioning for the part of a Jack In The Box. I think she would’ve won the role hands and paws down.
   She did ask me to go with her although Granny said it wasn’t such a great idea as monitors and me don’t mix very well. I just have to be laid on the sofa when Holby City is on and the musical noises the monitors make send me into a frenzy of barking. Holby City and I would make an excellent alternative choir, for deaf people to enjoy! It was deemed safer that I guard the house while the two other girls in my family went to the check-up.
   I can’t go into too much detail as I’ve got a data protection clause in my doggie blogging contract to do with medical information. Although I must tell you about one of the questions Mama J asked her Consultant Cardiologist. She told him about walking me and asked if she was okay to do more walking as she didn’t want to put too much strain on her heart. His reply was as follows, “Oh yes Juliet, I think walking your dog is excellent exercise and wouldn’t do your condition any harm whatsoever in fact gentle exercise would do it some good. So yes, walk your dog once… No twice a day!” The colour drained from Mama J’s face at this point as not only did she think of all the “lovely” exercise we were going to do but also that she would need to spend big bucks to get some decent walking gear to do it in. Granny was rubbing her hands together in glee and planning all the magazines and books she was going to read while Mama J and I pound the pavements of our area.
   I have the Doctor’s bank details and will be making a financial transfer right after finishing this post. Now I can fully train Mama J to reach her maximum athletic potential in full knowledge that medical professionals are right behind me, cheering me on!
So I threw a massive diva strop on Saturday afternoon. This strop would’ve beaten any that Mariah Carey or Elton John could ever have thrown, if strops were in fact a competition. My tantrum and tiara moment was all over where I laid on “my” sofa.
   I had just made myself comfy across “my” two favoured cushions for the afternoons Rugby match, when in strolled Granny and Grandpa armed with wine and rum and coke. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, I was ready to ring Alcoholics Anonymous about my pair of lushes!
   Anyway Granny sat towards the window end of the sofa and then with that Grandpa picked me up and plonked himself down where I had been laid. The cheeky bugger! With that I gave him “the look” and ran over to the other sofa, squashed down the cushion in sheer defiance and laid with my back to them both, staring at the back of the sofa. How dare they? Don’t they know that those are “my” cushions? Wait until “my” Mother gets home! I’ll be telling on these two!
   As the Rugby match progressed and England were scoring lots of tries my Kevin and Perry sulk moment kept getting interrupted by the noisy pair shouting and screaming with joy at the telly. I just kept glaring over my shoulder as if I’d changed from a Yorkshire Terrier, supporting England to an honorary Scottie dog and a fan of the Scotland Rugby team, just because I didn’t approve of my Grandparents pure cheek! 

Monday, 6 March 2017


So Saturday mornings walk was an adventure of scary sized proportions as it actually managed to make my hair stand on end. Mind you that doesn’t take too much doing as I shake my head and look like Tina Turner, most mornings right after Granny’s given me a brush. I was like Mama J at the end of the Thriller video. You know the moment when the loud man (it sounds very loud in a nightclub setting so Mama J tells me, although I’m such a home bird (sorry pooch) that I’ll have to take her word for it. Also I don’t see myself getting passed any Doorman due to my small stature and youthful good looks) laughs and she goes into full on panic mode? It’s a sight to behold I can tell you. Folks if you are throwing a Halloween party ever and you invite Mama J please remember to play that song either before she arrives or after she’s left. We don’t want a melt down over the bobbing apples do we?
   Anyway my meltdown happened as Grandpa and I strolled up to the tree just at the bottom of our road. Grandpa let my extendible lead go loose for me to go look around the tree in an anti-clock wise motion (the devil’s in the detail my friends) just as coming in a clock wise motion (are you still with me here folks with the clock settings? No one please reply, “I use a digital clock” though as it will ruin my story) was a squirrel! We both jumped out of our skins as if we’d been plugged into the national grid and had had a surge of power running through our veins and then Grandpa jumped too for good measures and in a slight moment of panic at what might happen next.
   As all three of us collected our thoughts, the squirrel and I were still nose to nose (now this is a new animal to be “friends” with) and it was a moment of who would blink first. It was the squirrel as he turned his body by 180 degrees and shot up the tree to a good vantage point on a branch far enough away from my possible baying lips.
   I stood astounded for a minute at what had just happened and was only pulled out of my squirrel based trance by Grandpa trying to move me on from the tree. However by this point I wanted to know where that bloody squirrel had gone off to and why he didn’t want to be my “friend”?
   We continued our walk down the lane but on our way back I was still affronted by the squirrels bad manners (okay I might have wanted to eat him eventually but I didn’t give off too much of those vibes initially) at my kind offer of friendship. Honestly the natural world isn’t what it used to be or how it’s depicted in The Jungle Book!
On Thursday evening Granny couldn’t be bothered with cooking dinner and seen as my family were going to see our former neighbours in their new home (we still don’t know why they would ever not want to live next door to us anymore) they decided take-away fish and chips were the order of the evening.
   About half an hour after devouring the fish and chips Mama J went upstairs to re-touch her makeup and Granny and Grandpa did the washing up. As they were finishing the dishes Granny’s belly started cramping and she thought she’d better go to the toilet. Okay folks that is as vulgar as it gets as this isn’t toilet humour we are plugging here, I’d never be so crude about my very lady like Granny either.
   Anyway the next thing for poor Granny after her failed mission in the toilet was to roll around the bed with her legs tucked up to her tummy to try and make herself comfy and ease the excruciating pain she was now in.
   Grandpa was like the male equivalent of Florence Nightingale, think a younger version of Casualty’s Charlie Fairhead as he ran glasses of water, Gaviscon and pain relief up and down the stairs. At one point he thought he was going to have to call a proper Doctor out (his characterisation of Charlie Fairhead really wasn’t up to standard) or take Granny to A&E. 
   In the meantime as Granny was still in a lot of pain the decision was made that my families evening out should be cancelled until this Wednesday evening. As Grandpa rang to tell them why they wouldn’t be coming, Mama J and I sat in the relatives room (our living room doubles up as this in times of worry) with the telly off. We were so worried about poor Granny that we missed the first Emmerdale entirely.
   We put the television on as Eastenders started as Charlie sorry Grandpa said Granny was feeling much better and then about half way through the miserable show (come on people it is but doesn’t it make your lives seem so much better) Granny emerged cramp free and as if nothing had happened.
   Seen as Grandpa and Mama J were all right with the fish and chips we’ve just put it down to something they were fried in that didn’t agree with Granny’s stomach.
   On a positive note though I wasn’t left for the evening while they went galavanting, so every cloud eh?