So, Sam announces to me that he is going to try making Spring Rolls this evening. He also adds that he will be making a cake in a few minutes. He explains that it will be a healthy cake, containing spinach, ham, egg and pastry.

Me: That’s not a cake, it’s a quiche.
Sam:: Well, a pie’s got pastry.
Me: That’s a pie and not a cake.
Sam: A cake’s not a cake.

I’m not sure I can continue to have conversations with him any more as they seem to dissolve into some surreal, other-world discussion.

Only joking, Jason.

Since the increase in interest in Sam’s Sayings, I now have one from his workplace!

Sam: What button did you always push to make the elevator stop?

M: The button with ‘stop’ on it!

I felt I should share it! Thank you to the person who sent it to me (I haven’t said who you are in case Sam gets paranoid and never speaks again – but I can, if you like).

He asked why I was looking at him.

Me: Because you were making sounds.

Sam: Sounds aren’t noises.

Beats me, I’m afraid.

Me:  What’s up?

Sam:  It’s my throat.

Me:  What’s wrong with your throat?

Sam:  I got hit in the head with it.

Please note: There are times where his sayings really don’t make any sense.

To be fair, this is J who is currently residing with us. I’m getting worried that Sam is starting to rub off on her.

V (to Sam and J) – Do you fancy going for a pizza?

J (to V) – Are you going?

Whilst I was doing a crossword and asking for help from V because I am really bad at remembering film titles.

Me – The clue is: A World War 2 Film with three short words.

V – Tora, Tora, Tora.

Sam – Oh, I was going to say Saving Private Ryan!

J – “Sam, what’s in your head?”
Me – “I’m not sure we need to know that!”
Sam – “When I want, I can remember things that I’ve seen.”

Really. You had to be there.

J – Sailors aren’t gay by definition.

Sam – Most of them are, though.

My grandfather went to a couple of world wars.

He’s sitting 2 inches from the television, watching ‘Stuck on you’. And reading Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince. It’s Saturday afternoon.

“Where did you get the book?”, I ask, knowing he has no books.

“It’s not the latest one,” he retorts.

If only I had asked the question – Is that the latest one? – maybe I would have had the answer I wanted?