So, a 75-year-old couple went from two in the house to 17.

Then the family can do with the money as they see fit.

So, the entire family drove to Troy last Friday, with only the clothes on their back, and have temporarily moved to Troy.

They were jammed under the front seat of the van and a Customs agent saw a paw sticking out.

A novel is like a gland pill - it nips off the cream of my hysterics and gets them running on track in a book where they belong instead of rioting all over my person.

Why would I worry about getting older - what's to moan about?