He lifted his grandson from the floor and sat him on his knee; he rocked  him back and forth, pulling funny faces, but when the wee boy started wriggling about he returned him to the carpet and glanced across to where his daughter Isobel was sitting:  Fancy another cup of tea hen?

Do you?

Well I’m asking you.

Isobel shrugged but she rose from the couch. I’ll get you one.

Naw you’ll no. I don’t want one, I was just wanting to know if you did. However, if you are passing the kitchen, I’ll take a can of beer … He grinned. There’s  a couple in the fridge.

Tch dad!

When she brought it to him he pulled off the stopper and drank it straight off. She said, You’ll poison yourself, it’s all dirty round the rim.

Ah! He wiped his mouth.

Anyway you shouldni be drinking at this time of day, no at your age.

What  ye talking about, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon!

You’re too auld for  it.

I’m fifty-three, give me a break – you’d think I was a pensioner to hear you … He  swigged another mouthful then raised his eyebrows: After last night’s performance but maybe you’re right – see the head on me when I woke  up this morning!

I’ve no sympathy for you.

He smiled.

I’m serious dad.

Ach I’m no  as bad into  it these days as you think.

Are you no … ?

Naw.

She nodded.