The Dawn newspaper today, with three quite ridiculous headlines of roughly equal seriousness:
A journalist of my acquaintance popped by this afternoon and was more despairing than I’ve ever seen him, and this is someone who reported during the terrorism years. I must say, I share his glumness at the tide of unseriousness that has always lapped at the country’s toes and now overwhelms it.
In the evening a couple of friends came over for dinner, a very pleasant time, and less alienating than some other times spent with friends and family in recent years. Though in the interest of full disclosure, what might have contributed was a few minutes of appreciation of my good taste, which is definitely the way to my affection. I would have purred had it not risked damage to my carefully cultivated persona.
In between was another encounter, this time with my grandmother’s very old friend, a lady who is in good health for her age, and can thus be justifiably disliked. My mother could never abide her, and I could certainly see why, as in a short conversation she tried to plant several barbs. Her barbs are of the school of effusive praise followed by skillful undercutting, for instance:
‘Beta you were always so intelligent, my granddaughter always admired you. She has just finished her PhD, what are you doing?’ – the point being that I don’t have a PhD, in the hope that it stings.
or
‘Beta you are so well travelled, from all your experience, tell me what are your views on the Global Village? Is it a good thing or a bad thing?’ – the point being that what she called the Global Village was a bad thing as children (like my aunt sitting by me) and grandchildren (like me) did not sufficiently take care of their elders.
I quite enjoyed talking to her, as I could almost feel my mother’s presence wanting to poke her in the eye.