Saturday, 29 November 2008


My teenager is ill. She's been in bed for 2 1/2 days. She's complaining that no one cares.

What do you mean? I ask.
Well only you, grandpa, grandma, my best friend and my ex-boyfriend care.

What do you expect... a card signed by the whole class ?

Yes. Laughs. Well I've texted loads of people to say I'm ill and they don't even care. They don't reply. I mean, just cos I hate everyone... .... she leaves this hanging.

How selfish of them. I commiserate, dryly.

Well this is not going to help my misanthropy is it? 
My teenager says she's going to do paintings of herself, Frida Kahlo style, who did endless self-portraits from a mirror above her bed during the long periods that she was sick. 

Frida Kahlo's bed
Frida Kahlo's bed. You can see the guards hand where she tried to stop me taking a picture.


  1. should I send paint, or build a easel?
    how about ginger tea for the young lady ?
    for whom the whole world cries out in grief
    for her pain.

  2. Do I detect just the slightest note of sarcasm?
    Are you implying that my daughter is in any way a drama queen?
    She is clearly expiring from consumption or some such malady.

  3. no no no no
    not at all
    truly my concern is sincere.
    my aim was to communicate supportive convalescence to you and your ever charming
    but oh so young and impressionable daughter.
    heal well ....

  4. OK well...
    maybe a little tiny hint of sarcastic content
    but I meant well.


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