Apocalypse at bedtime


– In bed already, Trudi?
-Yep! I thought we could snuggle up & chat.

-Wow, great! Anytime, babe.
-I did actually just mean… chat?
-Oh. OK, my love, that’s cool. (Damn.) So, what shall we chat about?


-WELL! I’m so glad the boiler is fixed, aren’t you?

-Hot water on tap! It’s such a luxury. I’m very relieved it works again. And the boys have done so well in their exams. I’m just so glad they can move on and follow their dreams. It’s so good! And you know what, I will miss my eldest child when he goes, but there’s no room in this house for all that brooding teenage sexuality. I’m exhausted by the electric hormonal charge in the air. I can’t breathe any more. My own self needs more space.


-Er wow, OK, I mean, that train of thought escalated quickly, Trude.

-Yes, and there’s also Trump. I feel he’s such an oppressive blot on the current political landscape. I wish he wouldn’t ramp up the rhetoric so unwisely. I wish I could have a chat with him and tell him how to behave properly.


-Wow, well, (chuckles), I’d like to see that.

-I wish we had more people like Macron, and before you say it, it’s not just ’cause I fancy Macron.* He seems like a proper statesman AND he’s supportive of the EU – oh! I’ve just remembered – BREXIT.

-No – no – don’t think about that, Trude. Please don’t.


-Oh no! Wah! Brexit!

-At least the boiler is fixed?

-Oh no! Trump & Brexit, it’s like a nightmare.

-What about sleep? Maybe that will help?


-No Alex, it probably won’t. We’re almost certainly going to die alone, in a country shunned by the rest of the world, humiliated and friendless, frazzled up in a radioactive war of words that could have been avoided if people were just more kind one to another.

-Well, it might not come to that.


-Are our passports all valid? Where can I buy some radioactive suits?

-Oh Trudi, I really do think it’s time to get some sleep.


-I can’t go on! I mean, I just don’t know who I am any more.


Is it because I’m nearly 43? Is this just the start of a slippery slope into a sort of harangued middle age? Am I going to be grey and boring, trapped in a lost world of demented hassles for the rest of my life?

Is this normal? I feel so invisible. Does anyone even know I’m here? Or care?

Wah! I used to feel so gorgeous.

*whispers* What do you think, Alex? Tell me I’m wrong. Do you still find me attractive?



*Although I do.


Moral: get to the real point quicker.

5 Comments on “Apocalypse at bedtime

  1. Fun, Trudi! 😀
    I hope your train of thought didn’t carry on through to your dreams… there are some things that shouldn’t be in dreams!

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