A Late-Night Anecdote About My Grandmother

My grandmother is a bit of a legend. Mamo (as we call her, from the Irish maimeó- grandmother) has always been a little bit of a rebel. There are a million little funny stories I could tell about you, like the time she told off an RUC officer for waking her because of a bomb threat, or the great (joke) conversations we have about how much I love coke and hookers. Needless to say she's rather cool.

One time in the mid 80's, she was driving along the Glenshane Pass, bringing my ubercool, biochemist super-aunt Jill back to Uni for her final semester. This was during the height of the Troubles in the North, when the least important thing on anyone's mind was the state of the public motorways, so needless to say, it was a pretty crappy road to be driving on. Also, it was apparently very wet and, as occasionally is the case, rather foggy.

My aunt tells me that as Mamo was driving along, barely peering over the wheel, a car suddenly shot past them, dangerously overtaking them on a bend. My grandmother apparently let out some noise disdain and tutted.

Of course, my aunt asked what the problem was, and my gran told her that the young man had been been travelling "far too fast" for such a dangerous road.

When asked what she meant, Mamo replied,

'Well, I was doing 90..."