The Prof has a heavy cold man flu.
He is presently resting the Roger Moore eyebrows and is lying weakly in bed.
" what would you like for breakfast?" I called up from the kitchen this morning" Something light?"
He thought about this between wracking coughs
and eventually answered in a weak voice
" A three egg omlette with smoked salmon and a cup of tea"
I think he'll pull through.
Last night, as the Prof lay prostrate on the couch, I watched the Norwegian disaster movie Bolgen. Bolgen literally means " The Wave" in Norwegian, so it will come as no surprise that the wave in question is in fact a tsunami, but a tsunami caused by an unstable mountain crashing into the head of a fjord.
Apparantly the Scandinavians are well prepared for such eventualities and like the Japanese have robust warning systems to alert the populations clustered in picturesque towns further down the valleys. Bolgen does not swerve away from true disaster movie protocol. Kristian ( Kristopher Joner) is a scientist studying the stability of a local mountains. He realises ( like you do) that the mountain overlooking his hometown is about to collapse. When it does in spectacular style, he has only a ten minute window in which to warn the population of the town down the valley, the town in which his family is sheltering.
It's a popcorn movie, nothing more, but having the Norweigan twist makes for a bit more interesting a ride. Kristian's partner ( a feisty Ane Dahl Torp) has more spunk than the average disaster movie heroine and proves it by not being adverse to a bit of murder in order to protect her family ( oh err), there are several very dark set pieces like when Kristian comes across a drowned tourist bus and the special effects are rather impressive and more realistic than we have gotten used to of late.
A good try 7/10.
Now I have only just realised just why, I am slightly obsessed with disaster movies and such tv shows such as The Walking Dead......it is a geeky childhood thing that has never been exorcised- an itch that has never fully been properly scratched
Last night, I caught a rerun of an American show from 1968. I watched it around 1970-1971 every Friday afternoon and although, even then, I could spot a shitty script from a hundred feet, I was totally excited by the general narative which had a group of strangers brought together by peril or disaster. That tv Show was The Land Of The Giants .
Throughout the seventies disaster movies such as The Poseidon Adventure the format of " strangers working together as a team" and " who will die first" continued to box office delight and even now, The Walking Dead, ( which is literally the same plot but substitues the undead for tidal waves) has me on the edge of my seat....
Geeky kids grow up into geeky adults I guess.
Have to go. The Prof calls from the sick bed.
He's requested battered calamari rings with accompanying mayonnaise for lunch!
It was " errand " day today.
George went down to the groomers early and needed picking up before lunch. His groomer, Louise has a kind heart and Made him comfortable with all his lumps and bumps. She has a soft spot for the old boy as George restored her faith in Scotties ( she had been nipped by a bad tempered terrier years ago)
I had to pick up the Prof's favourite jacket from the tailors,post some stuff at the Post Office and have already shot around the village trying to organise a " Flower Show Post Mortem meeting"-(the committee needs to allocate funds for this year's good causes ) unfortunately I've not marshalled a quorum as yet though I did see Mrs Trellis through her living room window gayly practicing her piano scales when I passed .
There is a new resident in Mrs Jones' old bungalow and I met him this morning as he puffed on his pipe during a break in gardening. He is a retired merchant seaman and couldn't look more like one if he tried, what with his pipe, bushy grey beard and weatherbeaten, crinkle eyed, slightly shopworn look., I have nicknamed him, unsurprisingly , Popeye.
Pat, the animal helper ( sporting a very natty Mary Berry hair do) promised to give me embroidery lessons during the winter and I couldn't find Graham the chap who has repaired our shed roof in order to pay him for his work. Mrs Frazer seemed impressed with his work, when she passed and also made a point of praising our new windows with a knowing " I see you have come into some money " kind of look.
I tell you all this as perhaps it underlines the pace and urgency you feel when things need to be done and deadlines albeit small deadlines need to be met, the quick pace takes over and feelings often are not acknowledged
You will understand the last sentence in a minute.
In the middle of these jobs I walked the dogs and had a rather " fraught" moment with Winnie who found and adopted a half deflated football. Separating a bulldog from a wonderful toy like this is a feat in itself. I was hot and bothered when I eventually got to Auntie Gladys'
It was a planned two minute 'pop in'
Knock on the door, say I was going away for a day or so and could she use up some cake and boiled ham I had knocking around. Of course I'd just bought the cake and ham, and the ruse was for her to feel as though she was doing me a favour.
He son in law opened the door.
It felt all a bit rushed.
He explained that they were taking Gladys out for lunch ( I felt a tad awkward holding cake and ham) Then they were taking her to a nursing home for some respite care as he and his wife were going on holiday for a week.
I knew this was on the cards, but hadn't realised it was quite so soon.
He thanked me for what I and others had done for Gladys and gave me a slip of paper. On it was details of the nursing home which included the telephone number and address.
"We are giving these out" he said carefully , and added slowly " she won't be coming back home"
It all happened so quick.
I presumed Gladys and her daughter were elsewhere getting ready
and I felt I had intruded just a little on family plans, so saying I would visit her next week, I took the cake, the ham and the slip of paper and left the sunny kitchen, still spotlessly clean and neat as it always was........with the old table in the centre on polished red brick tiles and the aga standing proud in the inglenook.
I was late picking George up from the groomers and gave him the ham to eat on the back seat on the way home. The cake I gave to the girl behind the till.
" what's that for?" she asked cheerfully
" A thank you" I said without thinking
Only after I had stopped to take George for a walk did I realise the enormity of what had just happened. No more good natured Flower Show Meetings around that kitchen table. No more bags of scones tied carefully around the cottage door knob. No more ...no more...
I , like many from the village will drive over to Holywell to visit, Monday looks like a good day to go, I thought, as a balding George lumps and all, tottered his way happily through the railway path.
And I stopped for a few minutes and sat on a bench overlooking the coast and a bright blue sky
Even the living room is empty, the dogs are all asleep in the kitchen
The Prof has just facetimed me from the pub. He's there with his family, fitting them in between work in London.
I'm sat at home feeling like Billy-No-mates
But I have lots of mates..I've had mates for years.
Craggy faced, Tom Stephenson, Rachel-of-the-Fens, Pudding of Yorkshire, Farmer's wife Pat from North Yorkshire and Ann Marie with the New York accent.
Raymondo, Jimbo, Jon, Steve,Mitchell, Andrew and Dave.....gays with something to say.... Dave, Nick, dave, Andrew, Chris, Cro, Gary and Kev , all straights with something to say too!
Those with nicknames...like Miss Norm, Parsnips , trailer Trash, and a hundred others
Sue H, John W, from around the corner, Simone, Twiggy, Elephants Child and CoffeeOTP a little further on..
And Yael, Carlinpa,Francis and a ton of others from exotic far flung places......
Lots to read, lots to read you...sorry I have not mentioned you all, new friends and old
Oh and not forgetting the bitch Ursula, who always enjoys a debate
On Monday's post, I found a short comment from " David"
It was as chilling as it was succinct . ReplyDelete
I called into Jacqueline's blog but allI could see is a post from last week. A typical blogger's post. Chatty, frothy, friendly.......then.....nothing.
I like many of us here, I send Jacqueline, her family ( ? david) and friends my best wishes but if that brief message is true, things do seem rather bleak.........a banal blog entry sitting on the internet like an unfinished chapter of a book.
It's a reminder to us all that life isn't a Hollywood movie.
The narrative is never linear.
A begining, a middle and an end....then.....fade to black.
It's not always the case.
Winnie was beside herself when I got home from work this morning.
Graham the workman had already stripped the toilet roof by 8 am and all she had been able to do was to to blow the odd bulldog kiss at him through the cat flap for presumably a hour or so.
She was exhausted at the unrequited effort of it all.
" She wants to watch what I 'm doing " Graham noted when I walked down the path and I refrained from the comment of " she wants to shag you, that's what she really wants to do"
It was far too early for such things to be discussed.
Especially as we now have an open air outside toilet ...all in pink!
I don't understand when Winnie first started this unsavoury love affair with male visitors.
It never used to be such a problem when she arrived at Bwthyn y Llan, but very slowly, over they years she has morphed into one of those slightly slutty MILFs that frequent the more offputting depths of the internet.
I blame the Prof's " slippers of sex" for it all.
So dear readers have you ever had an unhealthy crush on anyone?
I'd be interested to know!
It's the wee small hours of the morning and I am on my break at work.
Wards, even the noisey ITU can be creepy places in the dark!
I am reminded of a story I was told on night shift back in the asylum days
I was working graveyard shift with a EN ( enrolled nurse) who enjoyed telling ghost stories to frighten the student nurses.
The ward was a 30 bedded mixed ward for mainly severely affected dementia patients and at that enlightened time in the 1980s the clientele were termed officially as psycho- geriatrics
After a lull in the conversation my supervisor asked me if I had heard the story of one of the staff nurses who had suffered a severe heart attack on duty only weeks before
I told her I had not, so smiling she sat me down and shared the tale.
The nurse in question was working with a student nurse like myself, only the student was a shy girl of perhaps nineteen and the workload was as busy as it was for us, as every patient was totally confused and disorientated of time , place and person.
As the patients slept both nurses made a round around the dormitory and as suddenly as heart attacks strike, the staff nurse collapsed to the floor without warning.
The student nurse panicked, and not knowing that she needed to call for help by telephone she crouched by her colleague tried to rouse her then started to cry.
Suddenly one of the patients, an elderly man in his seventies clambered out of bed.
The patient, who was mute, incontinent of urine and faeces and considered a " husk " of his former self hurried over and said in a clear voice " we had better get her on the bed"
The two of them, then lifted the collapsed nurse onto the spare bed after which the patient told the student nurse to call for help.
The student grateful for clear instructions did just that and help arrived within minutes as the nursing officer on duty rallied the troops, and surprisingly the collapsed nurse survived her heart attack though never again returned to work.
The patient involved never spoke again. His cognitive abilities were assessed and remained unchanged from those performed before this incident, and it was never explained just how he behaved the way he did when the student cried out for help.