Semi related CSB (while I wait for my brussel sprouts to soften up a bit more)...
My great aunt's name was Edith. She was this extremely tiny, shriveled up old french lady who's kids had built her her own little apartment/addition to their house. The main house (where my enormous cousins and their parents lived) was your typical psychotic family household with giant redhaired boys running wild.
But when us kids went in to visit old aunt Edith we were not to touch ANYTHING (including her unless she wanted to give us a peck on the cheek or frail old lady hug in which case we were to be ULTRA GENTLE). The place was like a museum of the 1930's and she just sat in there all day in her special old timey chair sipping tea from her old timey china and brandy from her old timey crystal.
When she eventually ended up in the hospital (she was 93yo at the time) from a stroke we all went to visit her. Apparently she had asked for her cane to be brought to her because it had been left at the house when the paramedics took her away. Once she had it in her hands she popped that bugger open to reveal a flask filled with brandy and proceded to try to get her guzzle on. Of course that ain't the greatest idea for an old lady who'd just had a massive stroke and it shocked everyone (even the kids) because no one knew about ole Edith's cane stash.
But hey... at that age (which in the mid 1980's was pretty friggen' old) I guess the adults decided to let her keep and keep it secret from the nurses as long as she didn't go too crazy with it.
She was a pretty cool old broad.
That apartment is one of my major memories from a kid. Gleaming white including the carpets, totally immaculate, antique everything and DOG help you if you futzed about for even a SECOND in there. If aunty didn't get you wither her cane you'd be catching hell from the adults.
Okay... brussy spootz probs ready.
/CSB