may 30

Grandma's funeral is today: I am dreading it. I dread Joe's brutality and I feel guilty that I didn't go and see her. This is the way I used to feel when we turned up at the Sunday school picnic when we hadn't been to Sunday school for the whole year, and I never wanted to go because I didn't think we had earned the right to stuff ourselves with jelly beans and pin the tail on the donkey. I don't want to be the sort of person who can always be counted on to appear for an Occasion, but doesn't want to perform any of the small acts of affection and attention that constitute real caring. It's the kind of behaviour I expect from men and Americans- the grand gesture at the expense of genuine effort.

To change the subject, on Saturday Daniel had a housewarming party in his new penthouse in the city, with all the frotting and leering and casual betrayal that you find at any drunken gathering but with a veneer of sophistication because conducted in high heels on the 25th floor. I'm ashamed to say I got earnest and was punished the next day by a blinding hangover which manifested as a combination of headache, nausea and general self loathing . And now off to the funeral.