I live in a small quite isolated village. Every village has its sterotypes. We have the scruffy family whose son is always causing upsets at school. He asked a dear little girl to suck something (it wasn't a sweeet) and was expelled forthwith. We all call them The Asbos. There's always an indomitable old man. Ours is ninety five and strides about like a youngster. There's the family whose garden is called The Yard and has a tractor, a trailer, a caravan, a pile of wood, a heap of broken concrete etc. Every village has at least one of those. There's the Sweet Old Lady, a widow, whose house and garden are immaculate. She wears a 'pinny' and puts her hair up in a bun. (Ours looks just like Betty on the Wonga ads. She even sounds just like her!) There's always a middle-aged lady whose huge dog does an enormous pile of poo in the same spot on the pavement each morning. And then there's my husband, the very black African with woolly hair. Hardly any villages have one of those!