I’M STARTING to fret about the end of the world.
“SURE you’re nobody these days unless you have it,” mother announced upon hearing of her cancer diagnosis.
“I CAN’T put the pictures on my JCB,” announces a panicked mother via the medium of telephone.
I HAD my game face on. I was fired up.
BY the time you read this, Christmas will have come and gone.
DIARY OF A DRAMA QUEEN
By Mairead Wilmot
I WOKE myself up with a snore last night. I’m very traumatised. In my defence, I do have a cold and I was lying on my back ... but, really, I’ll be the first to admit it was very unladylike.
“IT’S an elitist institution!”
I’M RARELY stunned into silence, but it happened last week.
I WAS sitting in one corner of the room in a chair usually occupied by father.