How my grandparents met - another stupid Bob story!

My grandfather was Greek and I had an idea that my grandmother was Scottish. I never met him and she wasn’t actually particularly Scottish, so my information was a bit sketchy.

Anyway, one day at work a colleague asked me how they met and an idiotic story arrived, fully formed.

“My grandmother was a wealthy heiress and was cruising around the Mediterranean on the family’s boat. Back in those days, there were no toilets on ships, so they had to pull into a little cove in Kephalonia and let her off to relieve herself in an olive grove.

Just when she had finished and was pulling her pants up, my grandfather came round the corner with a small herd of goats, shouting ‘Oi! Get off my land!’, but then he noticed how attractive she was, they chatted and fell in love.”

The colleague was understandably sceptical, but then I repeated the story to someone else and she came to me later and said she hadn’t believed it first time through, but on repetition, realised it must be true.

There’s definitely something not right with my brain and poor Sarah probably still has this nonsense stored in the place where things that are definitely true are kept.

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