She’s lying supine across her bed, head hanging over the edge of her mattress, eyes glued to the ceiling, her body completely motionless.  I’m tempted to check her pulse…but instead I ask…

Me: What would you like for dinner?

She turns her head slowly, as if about to say something of importance…and smiles…

Me: What do you fancy eating?

A long considered pause…

Daughter: ‘Iced tea imported from England, Lifeguards imported from Spain, Towels imported from Turkey, Turkey imported from Maine…’

Me: For Godsakes.

Half an hour later…she’s still in her corpse pose…

Me: Spag bowl? Basmati rice? Sweet and sour Quorn?

Another laboured pause…

Me: Well?

And then a sigh…

Daughter: ‘Fetch me my Jimmy Choo flip flops, Where is my pink Prada tote? I need my Tiffany hair band, And then I can go for a float..’

And so it goes on and on…






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