Betty, my mum, runs the bar at her retirement village.
Every Friday evening they have a bit of a knees up.
Once a month, on a Sunday afternoon, they all meet to celebrate whoever's birthday. There's a cake and a drink.
Mum went down last Sunday, it was her turn for the birthday bash (she turned down lunch with us because she felt guilty and she had to go)
Went down, not a soul there, it is a retirement village, they forgot.
She talked to the woman in charge, they rang around and got 6 women (mum said that one of them had put on a cardigan - no clue what that's about, thinking that's probably good) and one bloke, (mum said, he's only got half a leg). He pushed his wheel chair in to the middle of the group and told them all dirty jokes.
The cake was frozen.
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