Let me tell you about my mother.

One day I was sitting in a pub in a Yorkshire village close to where my mum lives.
I was drinking a pint.
Along came the publican, Cain.
He talks.
Then out of nowhere, he says "How's your mother?"
I say she's fine.
"Where does she live again?"(He looks confused)"Up by the 'Education Close' isn't it?"
So I answer.
Anyway,it isn't for another couple of hours that I realise something is very wrong with this.
But I take it easy.
The next week I go back to the pub.
"Has anybody else been asking after my mother?"
"The queen,the Archbishop!"
Not helpful.
Obviously Cain is up to something.
Now I don't know whether it's him, or somebody else, like Pinky, or both.


I could be wrong.
But I don't care.


And so, after deliberation, I decided to start this blog.

Which brings us up to the present day.