Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

‘HoW old are you, Nanny?’ asked my six-year-old grandson on my birthday. ‘Twenty-one,’ I fibbed. So off he went to make a birthday card adorned with flowers and stickers. ‘Why have you got 21 on there?’ inquired his eight-year-old brother Daniel, looking over his shoulder. ‘She’s not 21, she’s 62.’ ‘Don’t be daft,’ retorted Jacob. ‘She’d be dead if she was 62!’

Mrs Carol Casan, Tiverton, Devon.