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Tiger-Lily’s Diary

3rd January, 2013

Dad has been going ballisitic as he had told Grandma not to have her

cronies round for what she calls Post-Hogmanay Lunchtime Wrinkly Drinkies

until Magda, her carer, returned from Normandy.  Ginevra needs monitoring.

It’s all her fault that Sonia drove back home like a drunken Stig.

Clammie, Sherry’s mum, said that it had taken her in excess of five

minutes to get Sonia a cup of basic English Breakfast in

Costamuchamoulah to calm her nerves.  The girl behind the counter

insisted on running through a list of all the speciality beverages until

Clammie had just snapped and shouted:

Never mind the Yu Luo White Tea from Hunan Province, nor the

Ntingwe Kwazulu from Fantasy Land.  Just get the old lady a mug of

regular navvy’s with two spoonfuls of sugar before she keels over!

Yu Luo-Scented Bi Luo Chun-White Jade Snail-Nonpareil from ESGREEN

The girl gave her a funny look and now Clammie is convinced that

she will be persona non grata for evermore.

(To whom shall she then go, for they have the beans of eternal life?)

Still, Sherry said that she was proud of her mater as she would rather

have a subversive parent than an Establishment Clone.

Candia said that Clammie had kindly waited with Sonia until the nice

young policeman had breathalysed the old dear and checked her

insurance particulars.

She couldn’t remember if her premium was with the glamorous,

pink-sequinned, singing Aussie triplets who look so like Antipodeal

Beverley Sisters, whoever they are.

She then thought that she might have changed over to the meerkat

one, as she thought she would have received a free Sergei toy.  She

liked Russians, especially Artem and Pasha, though she knew they

weren’t in the indemnification business.  She expressed her anger at new EU

directives regarding gender equity and insurance policies.  She was even more

inclined to vote UKIP, she asserted.

But in your case, madam, the policeman told her, it is not so much a

sex issue as an age-related one.  You see, the over-eighties have just

as many accidents as teenagers.

I certainly hope you don’t…

But Clammie had restrained her, especially when the pc had asked

her to consider giving up driving and opting for the Community Bus.

She consented to consult her Tarot Cards on the matter and agreed

that there were some things that she could not foresee.  Like the

brick wall, I suppose!  Then she let Clammie take her cribwards to

await Her Majesty’s Pleasure.

Candia says that Costamuchamoulah are going to keep the car in situ

if they can get planning permission. It should draw the crowds as

much as Pippa Middleton’s random appearances in town. Candia

said that if the people in Headington, Oxford, could receive

government blessing 26 years ago for a shark embedded in a

terraced house’s roof, then what dreaming spires can have, day-

dreaming shires should readily be permitted to retain.

(I like Candia’s turns of phrase!)

So, Untitled 2 may be here to stay.  Crash Art is very Postmodern

and so I am going to file my photos under Warhol and his 1963

silkscreen prints of the Orange Car Crash Fourteen Times.  If I can get

a bit of pastiche, parody and cross-reference going in my Art History project,

I won’t have to be a clairvoyant to see an A* coming my way.

The medium is the message!

Warhol, Orange Car Crash Fourteen Times

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