Grandma Contrarian

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As the 737 gets to the front of the queue on the tarmac, and faces down the takeoff strip, she pats me on the arm.
“Oh, JC, she says, it’s so nice to be here with you.
I pat her on her arm. “Me too, mum.”
She looks at me. “You know, son, sitting here on the runway, it always makes me think of —”
She trails off, looking happily into the middle distance.
“Of what, mum?”
“Of your grandmother. Dear old Grandma Contrarian.”

Make the most of it while you’ve got it, folks.

See also

• The Multiverse
• Voltaire's maxim
• Every dog has its day
• Normal Accidents