Anniversary of Grandad

When my youngest was very young, eldest thought his brother was Grandad reincarnated (same day of earth arrival separated by 96 years). As it happens, Grandad died on my nephew's birthday, which we celebrate each year, this year ate at to a pub that is okay but nothing special, compared to gaslight tavern, circa November 2004, as enthusiastically described to Guy.  Nephew agreed people who barrack for the Crows are like flat earthers-that's what was cool about GI Jazz: Melbournite's admiring my Tigers scarf. 

SIL came by to pick up youngest who offered to help with chores if I didn't make him leave and told her he'd made himself baked beans and a chip butty, like a before character on a heart attack advertisement. 

Meanwhile eldest has been unhappy ever since he headlined with his band, and now I feel like a bad parent for sending him to a Car clew camp. Right now, he's chatting on the phone about something being 'bad', his friend is asking 'how bad' he's saying, 'pretty bad', but I can't tell if he's talking about his pash rash or cello practice or a faux pas. 

(Update-band was asked to play at Neo, whatever was bad, might have been their band bio, which is bad!)