For the comedy first.

I reproduce below a message that is doing the rounds in WhatsApp among my groups.

For the tragedy next,

I reproduce two messages from friends.

1. How true in my case!!!

2. The story of my life.

7 thoughts on “Tragicomedy.”

    1. To be fair to Ramana, WWW, he did say “Tragicomedy”. To paraphrase “In the midst of tragedy we can’t help but laugh”. You do know, of course, what comedy thrives on. We recognize ourselves or our next door neighbour. Instead of spilling tears we laugh in embarrassment. Try Moliere. He was a master of the genre.


    2. On the contrary WWW. I have known the two commentators for near half a century and both have really been having a tough time. They are still because of societal and family problems combined with a great deal of common financial interests.

  1. Always best to know which side your bread is buttered on. Or battered on.

    After they have come back from a day’s work down the mines, in the dark, with only a canary for company, then putting bacon on the table in exchange for a bit of beer money men will do anything for a bit of peace and quiet. A type of appeasement. Ask Chamberlain. Not that that went well.

    My maternal grandmother, my dear dear beloved grandmother who brought me up for the first few years of my life, was a matriarch. She was tiny, not in presence, in cms. She ruled the roost. She didn’t do tongue lashings or rolling pin manoeuvres on her husband and five sons. Not at all. Yet there was something about her . . . A quiet dignity. And all those men, husband and sons loved her, revered her. Never after have I seen a more grief stricken bunch of (more or less) grown men round a grave than when I was a mere eight and a half years of age.


    1. in the name of accuracy (turning into MY mother now and her obsession with dates) make that eight and a half years.


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