‘I guess I’m just so used to shit happening because nothing good happens anymore,’ grinned the artist last week through proverbial gritted teeth. It was the long-distance — and long-winded — scam just tried on her which explained the mood. Though unsuccessful, it had not bred compassion in the home. Just then, the artist’s favourite Swedish white mug full of tea slipped from her hands, giving the old chaos theory a go. Very unlike her, I was thinking. I heard it hit the floorboards. It is the mug that never breaks. ‘Just like me,’ smiled the artist, picking it up, unbroken. She was back. Then she remembered the scam again: ‘Makes me feel sick,’ she spat venomously. More

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