Mashed Potatoes, Dribbling and Arthritis

Co-op's own shredded wheat thingys and banana.

I had bangers and mash for supper tonight. Yum. I've shared before my irrepressible need to sing the Bodger and Badger song every time I make mashed potatoes. I wish it wasn't so.

When I'm old and dribbling and don't know who I am anymore, I'll still remember this flaming theme tune. Forget Barney the Dinosaur, this is a far more effective instrument of torture.

To old and dribbling and not knowing who I am, I ought also to add arthritis,;which my father helpfully suggested I may already be suffering from when I complained about my left index finger hurting in the cold, and always taking longer to warm up (it's the one I slammed in a door).