Only recently I completed this oil painting of my mother. Needless to say Mum doesn’t like it much.
So I’d like to formally apologize to her.
I’m sorry for the painting, even though I think I nailed you. Mum was 5 foot nothing as a young woman, but now she’s shrunk to about four feet short.
I’m sorry for killing you off in my book I SPIDER. (In my defense she died of natural causes).
I’m sorry for other blog entries about you. Shirley not.
I’m sorry for trying to drown myself in my own vomit as a drunken youth and for smashing some of your gramophone records as a small child. (They should never have designed them in the shape of Frisbees).
I’m sorry that Dad passed away so soon after retiring. At least you got one trip around Australia.
I’m sorry that a hearing problem has reduced your quality of life so drastically. (Hopefully we can sort it out).