Lovely Pram

Do y'all know the concept of "lovely pram?" It's something along the lines of damning with faint praise. If, for example, a woman friend of yours is wheeling her hideous, suet-faced new baby directly at you, waiting for you to ooh and ahh over the adorableness of said uggo. Now, y'all know that not all babies are pretty babies. I was not a pretty baby, nor was my brother. I looked like a cone head, he looked like Ross Perot.

You've got to say something though, so instead of complimenting the baby, you remark --quite honestly-- about what a nice stroller she has. That's the proverbial lovely pram.

Anyway my grandmother, who is well known to have a soul made of eels and black stuff, just saw the Cadillac today, which was sitting happily in the parking lot with the top down.
"Must be nice when it rains" she said,
"It's got a top, Grandmama" I said
"Holey, I suspect" she replied.

It wasn't and I told her so. We chatted a little bit, I'm not sure what my grandfather told her, but I'm sure it wasn't the total truth. Finally she lowered her old-lady sunglasses, --you know, those giant creatures that fit over a pair of regular specs-- peered at the card with those clear blue eyes that haven't known joy or tenderness since Ike was in office, sniffed and said:

"Well, it's certainly a long car, isn't it?