Posh
My 80yo mother is posh - or at least she thinks she is.
- She has a glass-cutting telephone voice like Hyacinth Bouquet
- She hates being called by her first name especially by people she considers to be lower class.
- She's fircely racist

When I was about 6 she threw a wobbly in a bakers as the women behind the counter kept calling her "dear".
She said in a load voice "I'm not your dear"!
(I hoped the ground would swallow me up at this point)
"Oh, sorry" said the shoppie "that's all right duck, what can I get you duck?"
I was deeply embarased at the time but now think it's funny.

She claims her grandfather was Constable of Lancaster and owned huge areas around Morecombe Bay. However, her father had 8 kids, blew through two fortunes he inherited and then got himself killed in the war - silly bugger.

As a result, she went from living in a big house with servants to being brought up by a series of "aunts" who spent the family trust allowance on themselves, rather then the kids - as you do.

OTOH she had an obsession with being able to "get away from it all" and insisted that my dad buy a caravan so we could be tortured by his snoring and other evils of camping.

My father's family was quite posh too. My dad adopted one of his "family tradition" christian names to give him (and me) a double-barelled surname (which I dropped as soon as I could).

My mother now lives in the country near Sevenoaks with two mad dogs. Yesterday I got her "dog basket on wheels" back on the road. So if you're in the area and see a blue Citroen ZK covered in dog hair and dents heading towards you - be afraid, be very afraid.
(Pewit does things down under, Sat 17 Sep 2005, 9:42, Reply)