There were grandparents on the train yesterday morning, making the most of the whole grey-haired twinkly grandparent thing. They had a mound of luggage and their two grandsons, and obviously, from the overheard conversation, they were taking them on holiday. The boys weren't being bad, but appeared to be chafing already against the constraints - no doubt their parents had impressed upon them the importance of behaving really well with granny and grandpa - and there was the teeniest hint that the grandparents were beginning to rue the whole idea of the holiday. In particular, grandpa seemed very keen to stand by himself, in order to keep an eye on the luggage...
But what struck me was the question one of the boys asked granny - in bewilderment, "Can you make lasagne from scratch?"
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