Today brings roast leg of lamb, with a family that I don’t like, but must invite. They will bring me either 

flowers for my hay fever or chocolate eggs to add to my weight. The skinny one will smile while

handing me mounds of chocolate, as if saying you can have it fatty, I don’t eat it, that’s why I am still slim.

They will eat, drink and talk, while I am in the kitchen and then go leaving me the washing up and empty bottles to get rid of.

All this must be done while smiling and saying things like how nice to have family round.

Even uncle Jake, who keeps patting my bum in the kitchen. I want to say ‘do that one more time

and I will stab you’, but instead I just move out of his way.  

The trifle will look great, until two spoonful’s have been taken out and then the cream custard and jelly will all slide sideways and look more like a pavement pizza.

The coffee will manage to be too strong, too weak, too hot and not hot enough, all at once.

Uncle Jake knows that I don’t like smoking in the house and will light up at the table. When I ask him to go into the garden, he will look at me as if I had asked him to eat the cat.

Once they have gone, I will be happy, until the moment Garry says that was fun, when will we do it again.

I wonder if the judge will understand why I killed my husband and poisoned all his family.