He who snores loudest?

I have no recollection of my grandmother's natural teeth.
They were extracted way before I arrived on the scene. She did however, have a faultless set of false gnashers.
My late mother-in-law, many decades later, when she memorably came to live with us for nine months would casually parade hers in the family bathroom overnight. I acclimatised no more to that grinning glass than I did to the enforced co-habitation.
But Grandma Leyshon of  bunions fame mentioned in early Bunion Chronicles, was so modest with her denture wearing that I never saw them any where roaming free.. The only time I ever saw her without, was in darkness when I shared her wonderful, nothing comparable, feather bed.

Last night, still proud owner of a full set of natural enamel, I got into bed with my own granddaughter.
I am staying here for the week as her father is away on business.
We've shared a bed before, so while it's no great novelty for either of us, it always takes a little readjustment.
It is not unusual to receive a gentle tap on the shoulder to be told that I am snoring. (Qui moi?) However, the biggest adjustment of all is sharing our space with a bundle of canine hairiness.
Ted, their gentle adoring cockapoo, has decided that my snoring is no impediment to his personal comfort. He sprawls languorously across my legs like some primitive pulsating lionskin. He also snores. Maybe it's simply a snore too far that wakens my grand daughter. All I will say is in the kindest possible way that my breath is sweeter than his.

And so it will be three in a bed.
It is going to be an interesting week.



A sweet anecdote, but I can hear your concern from here. You are thinking, how could I desert the most undomesticated male in Hertfordshire? The chap who poured Fairy Liquid into the dishwasher instead of Rinse Aid when I last abandoned him.
Well let me reassure you. Yesterday, he popped into Waitrose just to pick up some milk.
As I said a fond farewell to him yesterday, I could see a plastic bag on the back seat of the car, containing:
two (two? Yes, indeedy) packets of Hot Cross buns, a jumbo packet of peanuts and a carton of (full glorious fat) prawn cocktail.
I tell you, the old boy will have to run a few Airmiles off his clock when he does his early morning perambulation.
That lot is going to take some shifting....