The Corner House

Post from an ex-Proofreader.
Reading one of Ian Rankin's Rebus novels, it's occurred to me that Wain should be spelt Wean.
'Wee One', I suppose. These funny Scottish words my landlady uses. For the record there's also - 'clap' the dog; 'chap' at the door; a 'fish supper' and probably more that I can't think of just now.
So, from henceforth, Bonnie's niece is not to be referred to as if she's something from a Constable painting but giving her proper title - The Wean.

Ooh, has my status gone up in this house since I left items of exotic lingerie hanging around.
Ian took us all out for Sunday lunch to belatedly celebrate my birthday. Him and Gabriella, Bonnie and I, The Wain being in Edinburgh visiting her boyfriend. Restaurant with a view, I do like this part of the world. I bypassed the turkey in favour of the pork. Turkey, no thanks, I'd been looking at my neck to much in the car mirror on the drive there. Pork, delicious, I wondered if it was the same stuff I'd packed the other week.
Bonnie spent the whole day convinced I was in the first stages of Alzheimer's. Completely unable to recognise my own underwear. Wain came home while I was watching The South Bank Show.
'Are these your knickers?' Bonnie held up the offending article.
She took one look at them. 'Crotchless knickers? Och, nae'.
We settled down to watch Irvine Welsh and views of Leith where The Wain used to live. She got a bit excited pointing out her old flat to us, then added, 'Crotchless knickers, do yous think I should buy some?'
'You certainly should' advised Bonnie, 'I mean, if even your old Auntie's mate's got a pair. 54 and she owns a pair of crotchless knickers. Mo, you should leave them lying around indefinitely, just for the prestige value'.
Isadora asked how they got in the front room in the first place? Beats me.