I was at the girlfriend's grandparents at the weekend for granny's birthday. As the conversation slowly but inevitably turned to their various geriatric ailments I began to drift off into my childhood and started revisiting life with my own grandparents. Compared to the girlfriend's my grandparents were evil wrapped up in badness. Let's go through some of the stuff I remember from summer holidays at Granny's in Scotland: My mum buys lemonade - my grandmother waits until the bottle is half-full and then secretly replaces the contents with acetone from grandad's shed. She then sits back to wait for me to run in with a raging thirst from playing in the garden (it was 1976 so a proper summer). I gulp three times from the bottle before the burn starts. Nice one Granny. She got me good and it was off to hospital for some stomach-pumping. My grandmother makes lentil soup - but doesn't serve it for four days by which time it is rancid. Grandfather AND myself down for almost a week with food-poisoning. She of course is fine as she 'wasn't hungry'. Ice-cream van comes - I get money and am told to get a cone for myself and the dog. Dog is to get two scoops, I get one. Ok, whatever. It doesn't seem fair but hey, I've got an ice-cream and I'm happy. Hang on.. Granny makes me feed the dog his ice-cream first. By the time I'm finished my ice-cream is a puddle on the floor. After the soup episode above I became wary and started looking for food which she could not possibly have 'cooked'. She had a pantry cupboard into which she put the groceries. She had the same order every time and it was delivered by a boy on a bike. Whether she was short of anything or actually had it in the pantry already was irrelevant - same order every week for years. Anyway, I started secretly eating raisins, dry cornflakes etc to keep the hunger away. She finds an empty can of strawberries under my bed and then nails the pantry door to its frame. It was still like that years later. I had to sleep in my grandparent's bedroom - Granny prefers her potty to the toilet which is actually only ten feet away down the hall. I am woken at regular intervals by her as she struggles out of her pit, retrieves the potty from under the bed and then deposits half of her bladder contents onto the carpet. Having to step over the wet patch every morning was a constant reminder that I hadn't had a nightmare and that it was all true. I could go on... My grandfather was actually quite nice though - especially to my sisters and especially when they sat on his lap. Did/does anyone else have grandparents like mine?