There is a lady who lives at the bottom of Dad's lane, she's lived there all of her life, and she's a bitter old cow. She is just so rude, once dad had said something that offended her, so he went down with a box of chocolates and some flowers; the next day, he came home to find the chocolates there, the flowers cut up and a note saying "don't think you can try and sweet me up with presents".
When I was about six, I was cycling down the lane, slipped over and grazed my knee. I was crying and bleeding and all upset, she just came out of her house and stared at me. There are fields all around her too, so nobody else was around.
Yus.
But I digress - I love love love being really, really nice to her, asking how she is and what she has been doing and whether she likes the weather when I see her. It's almost quite passive-aggressive; I know she hates it, but I enjoy being nice, and it's quite fun to be so nice to her.
I suppose that's not quite the point of this thread though, because I do it partly because I know it winds her up (although part of it is just that I struggle being nasty).
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