Remember the fright I got after The Old Man had some dental work done and woke up to find blood all over the pillowcases? (Click here for that post.)
The other morning I breeze into his breakfasty presence to find him sitting there with red stuff dripping down his chin and jumper.
"Aaagh!" scream I.
"What?" ask he.
My panicky finger points to his red-dribbled physog.
"What you done now?" squeak me.
"I'se eatin a blood orange." says he - proffering the half-eaten fruit for me to inspect.