Life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley extemporaneous.
Love is a thing which can never go wrong,
And I am Marie of Roumania.
– Dorothy Parker
I wish I’d thought that up. I was thinking of it because the ‘glorious cycle of song’ part, as my friend Edna just died. She was in her eighties and suffered from this and that, so it wasn’t unexpected – the fullness of time being what it is- but it still puts a little hiccup into the relentless drone of a daily life filled with dreary repetition and hopelessness; an opportunity to reflect. Edna was the muse who inspired most of my Stories of My Sorry Life, and thus this blog. She had a group of girlfriends with whom she got together on a regular basis to play bridge or bingo or something. For all I know they assembled Molotov cocktails for the local anarchists. In my experience, underneath the veneer, those grannies you see rocking away in their cardigans are all tough old broads who are done with the niceties, and tell the best stories.
Edna, out of loyalty to her daughter Bonnie, who married my father, used to buy all her stamps here. She always wanted the commemorative stamps and the ones that said “happy birthday” for Continue reading