In the current climate, with all of the latent anti-semitism, I find myself struggling to get into the “Holiday” mode.

My friends have had to have armed police outside of their kid’s schools. In bougie Manchester. A place where usually the worst thing that happens is Waitrose running out of caramelised onion houmous. Fuck – in the Caribbean I want to march when that shit happens.

However, during these genuinely awful, troubling and hypocritical times, beautiful things have happened. People have championed businesses which have made brave choices. People have marched in the face of adversity. Honestly, I’ve lost a few friends because of my opinion, and I’m comfortable with that. We all put our line in the sand, and I have drawn mine in a way where I would very much like for a lot of my friends to have to stop apologising for who they are. I love you, so you know. Always. And you know I love hard when it’s apropro.

While all of this has been going on… Cancerous mothers have stopped any further treatment. What a head fuck. But I recognise and appreciate where they are coming from with their choice. I will live in hope that what has gone before has been enough. Pure heroics are achieved by women who undergo her treatment.

Being real, as I choose to be. I miss my mother in law so much. I miss the fucking bullshit I texted her near daily. I miss knowing she probably rolled her eyes in a way she did in front of me. What a fucking Betty she was when she did.

But. Life brings levity, always. Manet/Degas… My fucking heart. Olympia. Fuck you. May someone think I’m that beautiful enough to create art of me, someday (even though seeing you did mean that I had to explain both prostitution and slavery to a five year old). The art always prevails. Always.

And she would have approved. With an eye roll.

Safe x