A CHERISHED FRIEND.
Linda Pay.
One of Mo's nice group of friends, lovely Linda Pay (pictured), died in the Earl Mountbatten Hospice, Isle of Wight, on September 23 at the age of 68.
Linda was a former Head of Occupational Therapy at St. Mary's Hospital, a staunch supporter of Monkey Haven on the island and a truly likeable, highly competent, lady.
She is survived by husband Colin and family.
The funeral will be held at Springwood Woodland Cemetery, Newchurch, IoW tomorrow, Thursday 5 October, and afterwards there will be a gathering at Monkey Haven to celebrate her life.
RIP Linda, a truly worthwhile person.
MY SORT OF VISITOR.
The weekender.
At the end of last week our friend Anne came.
It was good to see her.
Stayed with us over the weekend. Made her annual visit to various friends on the island.
Went back to Cornwall on Monday morning.
That's my sort of visitor.
TELEVISION.
Two series and a loner.
Our daughter Roz sent me a text: 'Have you seen The Five? It's good. Lee Ingleby is in it.'
Well, ol' Lee has come a long way since the wizards' night bus (and imprisonment in Azkaban), so I hastened to record the complete Sky series.
Mo and I watched it in just a couple of days. It wasn't at all bad (never mind what the critic in The Guardian thought) and Slade, played by Lee Ingleby, was by far the best character in it.
Drunk with the power of multiple recording, I then recorded the Kudos film and television production Tin Star (BSkyB) and we watched that, in its entirety, over two days.
Tim Roth and the entire company acted their socks off.
Sadly it was just a mishmash of bonkers-in-the-head characters and gratuitous violence.
So to the loner: The Child in Time, based on Ian McEwan's novel, starred Benedict Cumberbatch and Kelly Macdonald as parents whose child is stolen. I believe the novel was an award winner.
I doubt this adaptation will be.
THE CONSTANT CAT.
A much sleeping Shadow.
This time we thought he really was a goner. The old guy's suspected dementia became more and more pronounced over the course of a fortnight and eventually, in a paroxysm of fur biting fury, he fell off the cupboard where he was sitting in front of the television to land damply on the wooden floor below.
I did a quick cleaning up job.
My Leader inspected him carefully and concluded: "This boy is infested."
Strangely, knowing him to be a fastidiously clean cat, we found that hard to believe; though it was about time for his 'spot-on' treatment.
We spoke to the vet and arranged to take him in the following morning.
He then had another 'funny turn' in the course of which he did minor but painful damage to one of Mo's hands and arm.
This was not like him at all.
He has always adored her.
When we set off for the vet the next day we were of the opinion that he was probably suffering from 'elderly cat's kidneys' and this might well be the last of such journeys we would ever make with him.
The vet thought otherwise: this year has been particularly bad with regard to flea infestations, we were told, and the 'fits' the poor old boy had suffered were almost certainly a direct result of them.
He was treated with an anti-inflammatory injection and a hefty splodge of Bravecto spot-on solution. A sample of his blood was sent for testing and, much relieved in more ways than one, we were sent home with him.
An hour later we were telephoned with the news that his tests were fine and he had a while yet to continue living the high life.
Currently he is spending much time asleep in the upturned lid of the 'clothes for ironing' basket which, along with our entire living quarters, has been given comprehensive 'bash all bugs' treatment.
It's zero tolerance in this house.
I've not told him how pleased we are that he is still with us.
He'd only get big headed.
LAST AND BY ALL MEANS LEAST.
That diplomatic disaster.
Boris Johnson has been bawling his Brexit bosh - and suchlike twaddle - yet again. What's the betting he will eventually be Prime Minister?
Are we really that desperate?
Linda Pay.
One of Mo's nice group of friends, lovely Linda Pay (pictured), died in the Earl Mountbatten Hospice, Isle of Wight, on September 23 at the age of 68.
Linda was a former Head of Occupational Therapy at St. Mary's Hospital, a staunch supporter of Monkey Haven on the island and a truly likeable, highly competent, lady.
She is survived by husband Colin and family.
The funeral will be held at Springwood Woodland Cemetery, Newchurch, IoW tomorrow, Thursday 5 October, and afterwards there will be a gathering at Monkey Haven to celebrate her life.
RIP Linda, a truly worthwhile person.
MY SORT OF VISITOR.
The weekender.
At the end of last week our friend Anne came.
It was good to see her.
Stayed with us over the weekend. Made her annual visit to various friends on the island.
Went back to Cornwall on Monday morning.
That's my sort of visitor.
TELEVISION.
Two series and a loner.
Our daughter Roz sent me a text: 'Have you seen The Five? It's good. Lee Ingleby is in it.'
Well, ol' Lee has come a long way since the wizards' night bus (and imprisonment in Azkaban), so I hastened to record the complete Sky series.
Mo and I watched it in just a couple of days. It wasn't at all bad (never mind what the critic in The Guardian thought) and Slade, played by Lee Ingleby, was by far the best character in it.
Drunk with the power of multiple recording, I then recorded the Kudos film and television production Tin Star (BSkyB) and we watched that, in its entirety, over two days.
Tim Roth and the entire company acted their socks off.
Sadly it was just a mishmash of bonkers-in-the-head characters and gratuitous violence.
So to the loner: The Child in Time, based on Ian McEwan's novel, starred Benedict Cumberbatch and Kelly Macdonald as parents whose child is stolen. I believe the novel was an award winner.
I doubt this adaptation will be.
THE CONSTANT CAT.
A much sleeping Shadow.
I did a quick cleaning up job.
My Leader inspected him carefully and concluded: "This boy is infested."
Strangely, knowing him to be a fastidiously clean cat, we found that hard to believe; though it was about time for his 'spot-on' treatment.
We spoke to the vet and arranged to take him in the following morning.
He then had another 'funny turn' in the course of which he did minor but painful damage to one of Mo's hands and arm.
This was not like him at all.
He has always adored her.
When we set off for the vet the next day we were of the opinion that he was probably suffering from 'elderly cat's kidneys' and this might well be the last of such journeys we would ever make with him.
The vet thought otherwise: this year has been particularly bad with regard to flea infestations, we were told, and the 'fits' the poor old boy had suffered were almost certainly a direct result of them.
He was treated with an anti-inflammatory injection and a hefty splodge of Bravecto spot-on solution. A sample of his blood was sent for testing and, much relieved in more ways than one, we were sent home with him.
An hour later we were telephoned with the news that his tests were fine and he had a while yet to continue living the high life.
Currently he is spending much time asleep in the upturned lid of the 'clothes for ironing' basket which, along with our entire living quarters, has been given comprehensive 'bash all bugs' treatment.
It's zero tolerance in this house.
I've not told him how pleased we are that he is still with us.
He'd only get big headed.
LAST AND BY ALL MEANS LEAST.
That diplomatic disaster.
Boris Johnson has been bawling his Brexit bosh - and suchlike twaddle - yet again. What's the betting he will eventually be Prime Minister?
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