Groovy Gran goes to the Opera House.

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Last night we travelled into the city to participate in a mega-school-dance-sing spectacular*. There were thousands of kids and parents milling around and among them all I managed to run into by bloggy mate Maxabella, who was chugging a beer at the bar. She is smart like that. I was pleased to see her as I needed some emotional comforting.

You see, the cab driver who delivered us was super friendly, telling jokes and funny yarns, before asking…

“And what do you think Grandma?”

This has happened to me before. 

Maxabella told me that indeed I did not look like a Grandma. But she did point out that I was wearing a cardi, that being the only remotely Grandma thing about me….

Fucking hell folks! But I am 40, and I suppose in numbers terms, I could be a grandma.

AND WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THAT ANYWAY?

Grandma’s have changed over the years. I know more Groovy Grans than you could poke a walking stick at. The Modern Grandma is more likely to be found doing Yoga, Travelling, Drinking cocktails and perving on tasty  tradesmen, than sitting in a Laz-E-Boy drinking tea and watching their “stories.”

Any Grandma’s Reading?

How old were you when you became one?

*Concert was spectacular, especially one group of high school students who did a thigh slapping, pole dancing, stripper inspired number. It was sublime.