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. You can see the guards hand where she tried to stop me taking a picture.