Wrestling

“Oh!” said another colleague, on hearing the inadvertent heel story. “That really makes me think of my gran. But it’s not nearly such a good tale.”

“Try me”, I said.

“OK. Well, my gran really loved the wrestling so every Saturday she’d put all her jewels on and sit down at four o clock to watch the wrestling on the telly.”

“Hold on, she’d put all her jewels on???”

“No! She’d get all her chores done! She’d been a cleaner all her life, she didn’t have any jewels.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s the cold. Affecting my hearing. Carry on.”

“So she’d sit down in front of the wrestling with her knitting and…”

“What did she knit?”

“Always baby clothes. She had about 98 gazillion grandkids and was always knitting them things. Endless sodding matinee jackets hanging off the needles.”

“Ok, I’m getting the picture.”

“So she’s sat, with her knitting, in front of the wrestling. And every single Saturday she’d fall asleep in front of the telly, but she wouldn’t stop knitting.”

“She’d fall asleep? and knit at the same time?”

“Yes. Her eyes would close and her head would nod but her hands would carry on knitting. And then at the end of the programme she’d wake up and have to undo it all.”

“You saw this happen?”

“Well obviously I was only a child, but it’s one of my most vivid memories watching her unpick the knitting she’d done when she was asleep. It wasn’t any good, you see, or not as good as the knitting she did when she was awake. So she had to unpick it. Every Saturday. After the wrestling.”

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