something russian this way comes

Morning to Dublin.

Coffee with the Light Of The Russias.

She daughtered me four times in the first few minutes.

"My daughter Patricia this." "My daughter Patricia that." "My daughter Patricia the other." Etc etc.

I had just come to the conclusion that maybe she had a daughter but no husband, and had just decided that this would be no problem at all, when she husbanded me.

"My husband parked the wan in the street last night and the neighbours complained," she trilled lightly.

"What?" sez I, sharpish.

"The wan," quoth she.

Clearly she was misinterpreting my question.