End

For some unknown reason, the mother and the idiot choose to visit Alcatraz on their final day in San Francisco (nay, America) while the father and I stay behind in disapproval. They say they shall return in time for lunch. And when they don't return in time for lunch, we are not entirely sure what to do with ourselves. We have a beer, three oreos and half a banana each. I fantasise that the idiot has got lost in the prison and that I will have to swim across the bay to rescue her - consistent with the attention-seeking logic of love. They do come back of course, by way of apology bearing a single chocolate cupcake in a pink box. I inform the idiot that I will not be catching the plane back to England with her. The imaginary boyfriend is waiting for me in Los Angeles; I tell her that I will keep on writing the blog from there.

The next morning at the airport she pretends to be all frosty with me, remembering, she says, my bad behaviour of the last few months. I say I will see her in September or something. But she knows, and I know, that I will not be going back to England. I have dutifully completed the blog, and will not be writing any more in the future. It is time to drop this ego trip and drop the idiot. I now dedicate my days to the Los Angeles sunshine.

Thanks to my paucity of readers, thanks to the grandmother for bringing me down a peg or two, and thank you idiot for going to America and having a ball,

Consette x