All over for another year

It's that time of year that you see those members of your family whom you only see at Christmas, weddings or funerals.
I haven't seen Auntie J since last Christmas. She is a robust Scottish woman who is not actually a relative, but a friend of my mother's from her college days. She is tough: she survived a botched operation which means she will have dialysis for the rest of her life. As a secondary school teacher in inner city schools, now retired, she regales us with tales of boys masturbating in her lessons, of teachers and their affairs, of pupils attempting to burn the school down and of the manner in which she dealt with these occurrences; she told him if she caught him doing that again, she would cut it off and he wouldn't be able to play with it any more.
Although i tell her that i don't want to be a school teacher, she advises me that if i kiss ass (which she regrets she never could) i will get myself a nice job. I tell her i want to work in Higher Education and she tells me there's not enough of it to go round, and asks me what i do with myself of an evening.
I tell her that i write on my blog and she pauses and looks at me in which time i wonder if she knows what blogging is. Auntie J says that blogging is for lonely people and i do not disagree with her. She tells me i should teach myself music, and that i will never be alone if i can play. I insist that i have no ability for it, and she tells me that i am a talented and intelligent girl. She tells me that i look beautiful, like the madonna or the Mona Lisa. She repeats her many compliments and notes that people may say she has a big mouth, but she said nothing when i looked so terrible last year, and now i look the best she has ever seen me looking, and she just wanted to say it.