Words fail me. According to her I have should have been put down fifteen years ago, before I got doolally. Really? No signs of doolallity or obnoxiousness yet. In me that is. I can still manage to hold a comprehensible conversation and put on my own clothes.
I still know more about everything and have more common sense and nous than she will ever absorb into that peabrain, if she lives to be a hundred. Oh, sorry, she will not be living to a hundred, she will have reached over and switched off her life support system by then.
National treasures. Who would you choose?




