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!
In the wake of all the chatter, horror, outrage and ridicule concerning the recent US election, my mother’s remark hit me like a sledgehammer. Continue reading At Least He’s a Man
Tears, not rolling, but pouring down my cheeks. Continue reading Like a Phantom Limb
The decorators have nearly finished. Continue reading Using a Cock as a Doorstop
A fully grown and scarily articulate woman says she is turning four. Continue reading Turning 4
Last night they searched our bags as we entered the building, which is unusual when you are going to a movie in a London suburb. Continue reading Mommie Dearest