Megastress

Went to see the Cy Twombly last night at the Tate, which ranged from stuff which reminded me of Curly's efforts and others (like the paintings for that woman he knew who died, and the season paintings) which I wouldn't have minded having in my living room. Little Squish said she would rather have one of LSS's dad's paintings.

I see storms are lashing Wales again. How glad I am to be in my nice dry watertight flat and not in a tent in a field in Snowdonia that has just exceeded its hydrostatic limit (which I understand from LSS is a posh way of saying that it is leaking).

Nothing to do this weekend other than stress out about forthcoming meeting with Mo's lunatic headmaster who has suddenly taken into his head (after we have spent the past year working with Mo's class teacher to get him formally diagnosed and treated) to assert that he doesn't believe Mo has ADD (unlike the educational psychologist, the NHS developmental psychology expert and the doctor with 20 years experience in children with ADD) and that he does not permit children to be on medication in the school. God, I hope I don't have to pull Mo from the school just so we can at least try him on the Equasym. How I hate dogmatism. I'm positively dogmatic about it.

Reading Tacitus, Annals. At least I don't have Tiberius' problems.