Give That Man an Eyebrow (no, let's be generous, give him 2)

Today we drove to Nanna's house for the last time. We only made it out of the house at noon and I got all sad on the way thinking about how much I miss her. I counted the traffic lights at the Shoreham airport turnoff - 23. The council must have blown their traffic light budget all at once.
We did one trip to the tip and one to the charity shop and our work was done. So to celebrate we bought a lottery ticket and hit the damp parks for the last time. 2 girls tried to teach me the hanging-on on the parallel bars trick and I did improve until Bud banged my head on the slide and I retired hurt.
The charity shop that will collect all of Nanna's furniture is very lucky indeed as there is an entire houseful. I got a Lego 3-in-1 orange race car 31017 to keep me quiet and that lasted all of 7 minutes. Then I helped by testing all the pens and going under the beds to retrieve long-forgotten detritus and wiping the skirting boards and jumping around with Nanna's collection of hammers going rarg and badoosh, something I'm good at.
One of the promised bonuses for making this final journey was a revisit to the "Holly Blue" carvery. Nanna took me there once and Jof drove us there for the Nanna Memorial Last Supper. I chose the table right in the corner past all the exposed beams, turn left at the picture of Eastbourne Pier c1905, and we all had the carvery with drinks, total price £17.
Nanna was a northern monkey (Lancashire) so was never satisfied until everything had been eaten so we had seconds of vegetables and then eyed up the desserts cabinet. I had the chocolate indulgence sundae, Bud said he'd share a choc cheesecake with Jof so that nobody had diet issues and we left Jof to order it all. Then she came back with a cheesecake AND a giant chocolate Gateau so we told her off. Only I finished my pudding - the others failed. We sat around going Ogod I'm an obese monstrosity with our tummies going groinkle.
Decades ago, JofsDad was confusing the bar staff in a pub in Old Portsmouth which enabled the blatant theft of a sundae spoon which we still have. In honour of the late Nanna, we permanently deprived the poor old carvery of one more sundae spoon. Outside, the thunder crashed in approval. Just think, if I continue this family tradition, by the time I'm a Grand-Dad, I could have a month of sundae spoons!