The Golden Girls is an American TV comedy series about four elderly ladies living together in a beautiful house in Miami. The ladies are divorced or widowed, and they date and socialise regularly. It is insanely funny, they are continually bickering and putting each other down, but at the end of each show, they give each other group hugs and reaffirm their beautiful friendship- think Friends, thirty years on, with all the men dead. The show and the actresses had all won tons of awards back in the day -mid-80s I think, when it was first running.
One of the channels we can get for free (I refuse to pay for being subjected to non-stop advertising) shows The Golden Girls every day, and we have kind of slipped into the habit of watching these ladies (there is a lot of talk about seks, naturally, but it is mostly done in coded words so squeamish parents can watch it more or less comfortably with their curious kids) quarrel and argue while dressed in fantastic flowy colourful 80s clothes.
So a few days ago, the golden boy pointed to the images of Rose, Blanche, Sophia and Dorothy, and declared “These are my grandmothers”.
Instant Immigrant Trauma.