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There's saving money, and there's being tight: saving money at the expense of other people, or simply for the miserly hell of it.
Tell us about measures that go beyond simple belt tightening into the realms of Mr Scrooge.
( , Thu 23 Oct 2008, 13:58)
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My gran is a miserable, tight fisted, mean spirited old boot who has made my mums life hell for the 25 years she has been married to my old man (it's his mum). She frequently dries out tea bags and re-uses them, scrapes the mould of a bit of bread and eats it and has been known to chow down on some of her dogs biscuits if she has nothing in the house to eat. She also used to try to feed me pedigree chum when I was a kid as it was all she could "afford". When, aged 7, I offered her my pocket money to buy some bacon she smacked the shit of me. Lovely woman.
Anyhoo, the old dear lives in a rather nice semi-detached house just outside of Glasgow, which my dad pays the mortgage on. Her next door neighbour is a lovely old lady known simply as Mrs Gibb (hi Mrs Gibb!). Every day Mrs Gibb toddles the half a mile or so down to the shops to get some groceries and her morning paper. Every morning, without fail, my gran goes through Mrs Gibbs bin for any bits and pieces which could be used, in particular the previous days paper. Yes, she is too tight fisted to pay the 35p or so for the current edition of a newspaper. Now I would like to point out here my dad gives her about £800 a month which she takes quite happily on top of her pension so she may not be stinking rich, but she certainly isn't poor. He also pays all her bills, phone, gas, leckie etc.
So, after about 2 years of silence being maintained between us, due to the dog food abuse, I thought I'd pay her a visit one morning. You know, have a cup tea and some dog biscuits, see if the old bitch has mellowed at all so I made the arrangements to call round the following morning.
The following day I made the journey over there. As I came up the driveway I became slightly aware of a soft banging sound coming from the side of Mrs Gibbs house. I decided to have a quick investigation, being the nosey sort and everything, only to be greeted by the sight of a large green, wheeley bin rocking back and forth, emitting muffled cries of help and a pair of 73 year old ladies legs waving frantically in the air.
Yup, she had been so keen to get to the day old newspaper and a half eaten bar of chocolate from the bottom of a bin she had fallen head first in there, and was unable to get out. I obviously pulled her out, which was rather difficult considering the pain I was in from laughing so much. She promptly told me to piss off before retrieving the paper and chocolate and walking back in to her house and locking herself in.
A touch harsh? Probably. Very amusing? Fuck yes.
Length? About 5 foot 5 whilst stuck in a bin.
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 16:31, 10 replies)
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to be the first to say,'You should've banged the lid down and left the old bag to rot!'
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 17:09, closed)
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your mums mum is always nice
hence the reason you should never forcibly eject her from public transport
*taps nose*
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 19:21, closed)
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She is from Airdrie which goes a long way of explaining things...
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 19:25, closed)
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still could be worse - she could be from coatbridge and be a tim
*hides*
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 19:35, closed)
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but a bigger hun you couldn't wish to meet.
her dad was in the masons and the orange order bizarrely enough
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 19:39, closed)
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that she's still paying a mortgage on her house especially at £800 a month. Even stranger that her son is actually paying it for her.
Have you ever wondered why?
I'm with spimf on this one *taps nose*
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 22:08, closed)
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and gives her an allowance as it were.
He bought the house because she used to stay with them but they couldn't take it. On account of her forcing his kids to eat dog food.
( , Sun 26 Oct 2008, 22:29, closed)
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