This is the situation: my old dear has broken her wrist. She has the blackest eye I've ever seen, very impressive, and she can't do much for herself. Therefore my plans for decorating, PhDing, going to concerts and generally doing zephyrish things have gone awry. I travel up and down the motorway, five hours at a stretch, to try to help out a bit. She's getting "forgetful" as well. Can't take anything in. In addition to this, while I was out on the road, something happened at home: three bookshelves that used to span the wall above the computers died suddenly, causing total chaos. One broken chair, two broken computer tables, 300 broken books, one broken heart. My books are migrating to boxes, the boxes are migrating to my room with all the other homeless stuff. My dog is hungry. Okay, she's no longer hungry. My dear cousin has volunteered to mothersit for me this weekend so that I can go to a concert. The old dear, however, doesn't want her. She'd be embarrassed (cousin has dyed black hair, a total disgrace). She wants me. Why can't I come? Cousin has already booked the tickets to travel from London to Newport and back. Well, can't she just leave it? Then I could travel to Newport on Friday night when I get back from my conference. Yes, Birmingham to the frozen north to pick up the dog, then down to Newport. Eight hours of driving if the traffic is light and there are no roadworks (!). That would be so much better. Less embarrassing, don't you know. We can't have scum with dyed black hair caring for people. It's not what you are, it's how you look. If you don't conform to the norm you are necessarily a bad person. And my mother's friend is on holidays, so there's nobody to shop for her (except for my cousins and a whole host of other friends and family, but they don't count). Okay, okay, I know. But she's extremely annoying. You have no idea how annoying this woman is. Now I'm not going to justify it. Some things I don't want to talk about (and especially write about - once it's in print it's irrevocable). You'll just have to believe me when I tell you these things. Or not. You don't have to believe anything. And you don't have to dress to impress the beige brigade (can't take credit for that, it's a Lenism). You can be who and what you want to be. Don't let other people rule your destiny, be comfortable in your own skin. But don't give other people a hard time because they're not like you. Variety is the spice of life, you know.