Me: Vicky, when's your birthday?
V glares at me. This is an old, old fight stemming from some slight and entirely explicable confusion over the exact date.
Ma: It's 25th September, 1976, right? What, why are you laughing?
Because, dear Mum, you are only thirty years off your grandson's birthday. Vicky, for all his sins, cannot be classed among the 25th Septembers.
You have to admit though, the woman has a one-track mind. And this is the lady who was known for her phenomenal capacity to remember every single friend and relative's birthdays and anniversaries. How the mighty have fallen.
Update: Check this post out, while on the subject. Bah.