Fried Brains – It’s pretty cold in here now so I have been sunbathing with my head within an inch or so of the old Carer’s desk lamp. You’ll fry your brain!’ she scolds, then that will be the end of Tuti’s Blog. She reaches out to scratch my overheated head, which I drop into the palm of her hand. You must have a small brain inside that tiny head, she says. It’s quality not quantity, I snap back, you have no idea of the mental convolutions my brain is capable of. She may have a point, though, about the desk-sun lamp; so I turn around and warm up my rump instead. A fried arse is preferable to the fried brain I get reading the news on the computer.