We live with Nan. Nan is a very normal nan.

She lives with Vanessa de Floof, her pet ferret.

She likes to do very normal nan things like

and . . .

and . . .

and . . .

We skid to a stop outside Nan’s house. Matt leaps off the bike. He runs even faster than he did that time when I explained to him how an all-you-can-eat buffet works.

‘Can’t talk. Gotta wee!’ he yells, charging in through the front door.

As I follow him in, I trip on a pile of unopened envelopes on the doorstep.

‘Morning, Nan. There are more of those weird letters again,’ I say, scooping them up.

‘Thanks, darl. I’ll just file them away with the others,’ she says, feeding them into a paper shredder. ‘Perfect lining for Vanessa’s ferret palace.’

Then, as always, Nan lands a hugely sloppy kiss on my cheek.

Embarrassing!

What makes it 1000% more embarrassing is I see Nan’s nosy, know-it-all neighbour Abbey standing right there, in the lounge room.

‘What badge are you earning today, Abbey?’ I say, as sarcastically as possible.

‘Zoology . . . I’m observing the eating habits of primates,’ she says with a smirk.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, you wanna banana?’ she says, which makes Vanessa make a noise that sounds very much like a LOL.

Just as I’m about to devastate Abbey with one of my patented Richard comebacks™, Matt walks in. He’s white as a sheet.

‘You’re never going to believe this, Nan,’ he says, ‘but . . .’