Mama Mia

I’m hiding my tears behind a newspaper and the occasional manufactured cough. But I don’t know why I’m bothering, because the woman on the sofa mostly has her eyes shut, and even when she doesn’t, has no interest at all in me. She is my mother. Continue reading Mama Mia

Waaah! I Can’t Look After Myself!

I can’t, and I don’t seem to want to. For a while perhaps I thought my husband would do that for me. I abdicated that responsibility, if I ever held it. Maybe briefly. Before that it was my dad, I suppose. And before that, I can only assume, my mother, when it was just a case of nappy changing and so on. Continue reading Waaah! I Can’t Look After Myself!