What Girls Want, Endless Mud and Dirty Sheets.

What a surprise, little girls like to play with dolls and sit at baby dressing tables and fix up their faces. Well there it is and thank God for it because if they wanted to get a jackhammer and bash people’s heads in, or wanted a Kalashnikov rifle for their birthdays the world would be an even worse place than it is. My youngest granddaughter, as you will see loves her dolls, and cares for them tenderly, she did not fancy the many weapons of mass destruction which her elder brother preferred. Most boys like playing horrific games on those foul reality machines they are all plugged into where they can walk into supermarkets and blow old ladies heads off. I confiscated something called “Grand Theft Auto” and threw it in the Solent and have never been forgiven for it. I am not saying boys should want to play with dolls, after all they want to play with girls all the time after a bit. And you all know what I mean by that, because you are sassy people.

Someone mentioned the popularity of porn sights yesterday at lunch. My very witty best friend agreed with me that it was strange for girls to want to show people what she called their “Flue” and the Sainted One remarked that, considering there were many millions of the said organs in the world it was strange that men wanted to look at pictures of them. I made what I thought was a rather sensible comment suggesting that “situation modesty” and the school run played a part in most women’s lives,thus creating few opportunities for this kind of voyeurism  on a daily domestic basis. The conversation then became rather unpleasant.

I have just washed another  ten sheets and an equal number of towels. I have an obsession about used sheets you always get caught out. Once I stayed in a rather smart house and found a note in the bottom of the bed saying “Sarah Black has slept in these sheets” people always get clean ones here even if they are related .

I feel rather low at the moment as two of my most precious friends are very sick we said prayers for them in our lovely Church and I await a miracle. It never stops raining, so my dogs have had to be shorn of all their magnificent plumes, because they cart all the mud from the construction of Mandela’s wall into the house and of course my bed when they can. My neighbour managed to get out to look at it on the only sunny day which was a special moment.

But it is not all bad, I went with my elegant son to the Sleeping Beauty at Covent Garden, an evening of sublime joy,which makes one grateful to be alive  and proud to live here where all this beauty and talent is nurtured and available.