Writing for Rubbish Fees – So now the poor old Carer can’t write and can only type with one finger on the computer. It may be a sign, she says, that it’s time to give up writing about art after more than forty years of dedicated time and research – not to mention RUBBISH FEES that barely cover the cost of my kibble and vet visits. It’s now hard not to see it as time wasted on a thankless activity, she moans, especially as art writers are the only group in the so-called Art World that gets an occasional free lunch but no prizes. My view is she probably marginalised herself as she spent too much time writing for artists’ catalogues and obscure publications that go into a black hole of obscurity, and her attitude has been too far attuned to what her old colleague Jimmie Durham once wrote, which goes something like: ‘Trickster says, whatever you do, I am going to do something else’ (which doesn’t go down well with any Establishment.) But her withdrawal means that – Yeh! – I shall have free run of the computer – when I can figure out how to press the ‘on’ and ‘off’ buttons with my paws. Then I can flop on the keyboard when I like and paw out my memoirs using the ‘mouse’ – which is bald and tastes of plastic.