Post 504. HMM. NOT THAT CHEERFUL

SO JUST A FEW WORDS

TO SEE OUT APRIL
I am sorry I cannot strike a lighthearted note. It has been a lousy month here, Cold, and packed with one item of sad or bad news after another. 
Brother-in-law Mike (the 'now in his late nineties' one) drove to Guildford from Alverstoke to visit an old acquaintance, had a fall, broke a hip, and finished up in hospital fifty or so miles from home. The hospital in Guldford was wonderful, and he is making a steady recovery. He has now been transferred back to Gosport War Memorial Hospital where he will stay until he is fit to return home. Don't decry the NHS, its (largely immigrant) ground staff is second to none. If only political meddlers at the top would leave it alone.
There is much more I cold record, sadly none of it cheerful, so I shall wish you all the best for May onwards and move on.
Despite the state this world is in,

Be lucky.

Post 503. MEANDERING ON.

WHILE IT ALL HAPPENS

AROUND US.
The Middle East is in chaos. Religious zealots are now openly warring with each other. The Americans whose meddling - slavishly supported by our lapdog lot - is largely responsible for it all, is finally making futile noises. Meanwhile, that puerile prick Putin still attacks formerly neutral neighbour Ukraine, that duplicitous dickhead Trump is quite likely to become the US President again, and we have an unelected Foreign Secretary who disappears at the drop of a bollock..
It beggars belief. 
Mo and I meander on. Mo is spending more walking time with a three wheeled frame (her right knee gives her hell) and I am constantly dealing with excreta leakage: not a nice subject, the latter, but colon cancer is not a nice topic. Yesterday, for the first time since I was told I had it, I looked on line for information about the cancer. Seems that, statistically, I may have a year or so left. I have a MRI scan next Thursday to which I am not looking forward. And that's that..
Most of the time I count myself lucky. I have a loving wife and family, a few good friends, some happy and some sad memories, and the firm belief that I  have seen the best of this country.
If I'm still here I'll not vote at another election, and I fear for our descendants, stuck with the rubbish currently on display. But I guess they'll manage even if, sadly, Powell was right.
Regret the downbeat tone of this post, my dears.

Put it down to my condition.
Be back in more cheerful mode next time..

Post 502. RANDOM THOUGHTS.

 IT'S BOAT RACE DAY

ON THE RIVER SLIME
First random thought: It is Cambridge/Oxford Boat Race day, and both crews deserve better than a shit filled river Thames upon which to fulfil their rowing dream. As I write, the Cambridge women have thrashed the Oxford women for the seventh time, so no change there. But nobody will be ceremoniously dumped into the river today: there are doctors among them who know better than to trust colleagues to the slime of the Thames. Oh, the Cambridge men won. too.
We glance at the race every year, but have never been to Cambridge and, other than visiting our daughter who taught at an Oxford school, the City of Dreaming Spires is little more more then backdrop to the Morse, Lewis, and Endeavour TV series to us. 
Second random thought: The clocks go forward an hour tonight. Well, that's April buggered up. 
Third random thought: We enjoyed The Mule, a film produced, directed, and starring Clint Eastwood. Whoever he plays, old Clint is watchable. When I first saw him he was Rowdy Yates In Rawhide. He was good. Then came The Man with No Name in the spaghetti westerns and the Dirty Harry films; all good. In 1971, with Play Misty For Me, he became a film director. He has gone on to become a better and better film director. And I like him even if he is an American.
Which is about it for this month. Mo and I are watching

a thriller set in New Zealand.

The box calls. 

Cheerio for now

Post 501. OUR LOCAL GENERAL PRACTICE.

 IS MOVING BACK TO TOWN.

LEAVING NO LOCAL DOCTOR HERE.
I have just received a letter from the GP Partners at the sole practice in Wootton Bridge telling me their rented (I thought it was owned by the NHS) surgery in the village is now in such a state of structural decline that it will probably have to be demolished and rebuilt. The Practice has been offered options for temporary accommodation to facilitate the undertaking of rectification works, but has concluded that the extensive work required would be too disruptive and a permanent relocation is the better option. The troublesome surgery (above) was erected only ten years or so ago, and I cannot help but ponder which bright planner of the time declared the site suitable for purpose? Whoever it was will not be unearthed. The buck never stops anywhere nowadays.
Oh, the customary local bigwigs have started to mutter dissent and will customarily be ignored.

The Island's Conservative MP, has become an openly testy interviewee on TV programmes debating the next general election. He understandably cares only about retaining a safe seat. 
TELEVISION.
We have been watching repeats from three series of ancient Inspector Lynley Mysteries on Drama. Nathaniel Parker and Sharon Small were great as the thick aristocratic boss with the sharp working class assistant, and we enjoyed it. We have also been watching old episodes of Agatha Christie's Marple, starring Geraldine McEwan, and Vera, starring Brenda Blethyn. I thought I had given up on repeat repeats, but you can't stop watching truly watchable actors. We have also been directed to Whitstable Pearl and some episodes of The Brokenwood Mysteries (both on Drama) not previously seen by us, and all of it very watchable. We also watched Coma on Channel 5. Jason Watkins, Jonas Armstrong, and Claire Skinner were strong leads and David Bradley easily retained his position as the finest supporting actor in film or television anywhere. I dislike 'true crime' stories, so I found this mini series far too close to the truth. 

Everything else on television seems like one big PR exercise to convince me what a diverse (the 'in' word) country we now live in. I think divisive the more accurate word, but I'm an old grouch.

ON A MORE CHEERFUL NOTE:

THE LOVELY DOG, BUDDY.

Our late daughter Roz's much loved dog, Buddy, gives the lie to the theory that an animal who looks like him has to be a dangerous brute. Roz would have been fifty four on the twelth of this month: she died three years ago on the twelth of next month. She is never far from our thoughts. I republish the above picture as thanks to Sue and her family who, way back, sent it to show how he was settling in with them. I think he still has the same best pal and menagerie of interests.
Good for him. And you if you have kindly kept up with all this over the years.

That's it for now. Cheers.
      

Post 500. INCREASINGLY MONITORING

MY TELEVISION VIEWING.

TO SIDESTEP REALITY.
Sidestepping reality TV is a hard thing to do. The 'everybody will get fifteen minutes of fame' era is upon us, so it's cheap viewing for the easily pleased.
In my quest to avoid the intolerant views of  former gutter press journalists and Brexiteers under whatever current guise, I have all but abandoned the Jeremy Vine programme on Channel 5: might look in if there seems to be somebody of interest to me, but most of the token celebrities and failed old hacks who regularly appear are, to my mind, ignorable seat fillers.
By much the same token, I am too old and set in my ways to welcome programmes full of happy young souls setting Surrey, Kent, or Camberwell alight. Good luck to 'em, but I don't need watch. Nor do I bother with football now: the soccer world is a money pit packed with falling down foreigners and managers bravely wrestling with the English language. How the hell does Gareth Southgate pick an England team? There are scarcely any English players left in the Premiership.
All of which is an elderly mither that will probably be registered as racist, sexist, ageist (or a 'phobia')  by many of those who climb aboard every twenty first century bandwagon going by.
WELL, IT IS LEAP DAY, SO

AND A HAPPY BIRTHDAY 

to any 100 year old celebrating their twenty fifth birthday today. 

Enjoy it.

Post 499. IF YOU'RE NOT A GAMER

OR A MOBILE PHONE HUGGER

YOU'RE IN MY WORLD.
On the unworldly assumption that no change, for whatever reason, is ever for the better, I have survived thus far into 2024 without switching on my mobile phone each day or even looking for my (doubtless battery flat) ipad. I cannot bother to sit at my computer killing off fictional aliens, and I have been 'silent walking' for donkey's years. If that makes me 'Dennis no mates,' so be it.
If you are lost on a mountain and in danger of death (why do they do it?) then a phone call to a rescue team is a godsend. If you are a beleaguered mind seeking solace a phone conversation with some fixated crank can be a sadly fatal way out. A voice in your ear cannot match face to face contact. NHS patients in their droves are currently discovering that and will, I fear, continue to do so until whatever government of the day finally puts paid to the service altogether.

Never think NHS survival is a certainty. Insurance companies and Americans hover greedily.
Reality in all its forms encompasses us at an alarming rate. Politicians and the media regard us as gullible children. Professionalism, in anything but lying and deception (politics), is increasingly being replaced by puerile amateurism (just look at your tele). The world has gone bloody mad.

But cheer up. If you were born in a leap year you can have a birthday party soon.

That's enough until then.

Be lucky.

    

Post 498. THERE WERE EIGHT GIRLS

 LEFT TO RIGHT:
                                                     DORIS, MAUREEN, JEAN, LORNA.

                                                               PAT, RUTH, PAM, MARG.
A VERY ENGLISH FAMILY.
When, early in our relationship, Maureen told me she had seven sisters I was – as an only child with two (unofficial and part-time) foster brothers– intrigued and a trifle apprehensive. What would they make of their 17-year-old baby sister taking up with a thirty-year-old former soldier now a lowly NHS employee? They were a very English family. Mostly tolerant. Sisterly close. Quick of temper. Shrewd in judgement. I was a trifle apprehensive?
Mo introduced me to them gradually, mainly in their own homes, and answered the most often (thankfully kindly) asked question: “Where did you get him?” with: “I got him on the NHS.”

Over the years I came to know them individually, though all but one of them (oldest sister Lorna, an Isle of Wight  resident) lived in or fairly close to Portsmouth. they holidayed together at an island chalet complex every year, and were jokily known by its manager as 'The Sisters Grimm.'
I liked each of them as individuals. Being human, I had my favourites. Marg. was one of my favourites. She was the one who did not want to live beyond her seventies, who married Mike on the same day that our youngest child, Roz, was born (12 March 1970), who did the cryptic crossword in a broadsheet every day (a couple of times she attempted to teach me the knack, but I was hopeless), who swam thirty lengths at a local swimming baths three times a week, and whose television viewing in summer began and ended with  tennis at Wimbledon.
As the years passed on so, one by one, did the sisters until, with the death of Pam in 2020 (Post 348 refers), only the fourth born, Marg. and the last, Mo, were left. Now lovely Marg. has gone.
Throughout the last year or so her health, both physical and mental, went into decline and, despite every possible assistance that Mike (now in his late nineties) tried to give her, she was eventually admitted to the Queen Alexandra Hospital, Portsmouth, and thence to a NHS nursing home where, barely a week later, and two days short of her ninety fourth birthday, she died. 

There is little I can add except my commiserations to Mike who will be finding it all hard to take in, and my sympathy with dear Mo who now has none of her seven sisters. 
REMAINS ONLY TO SAY

MARG URRY nee HAMMOND.
A KIND, NICE PERSON AND
THE LAST OF THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN.

    

Post 497. THE BADGERS OF DEEP WOOD.

BY GUESS WHO

IS HERE IN PAPERBACK.
I had some rather nice Christmas presents last year, so forgive the old scribbler if he makes particular mention of one of them. Our son, Neil, gifted me the paperback of my book for children aged 6 to 18 (though I've always said 9 to 99), The Badgers of Deep Wood. It was a complete, and a wonderful, surprise to me, is printed by Amazon, and costs £12.69 to buy. Worth every penny/cent, says he. It is my one and only - probably ever  - published work of fiction, so I am delighted to have it sitting now between hardback sets of Philip Pullman and J.K. Rowling on a bookshelf that also contains a copy of  Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows.
The cheerful Badger cover was designed by Neil. What it is to have a graphic artist in the family.

So, like a television chat show guest, I have plugged the book and have not much else to say..

Please consider buying it if you have youngsters who might enjoy it. And read it to them. 

THAT'S IT

.BACK NEXT MONTH 

 

.

POST 496. HERE WE GO AGAIN.

THE DISTRACTIONS

DULY  DISMISSED.
It is amazing how many distractions you can find when you're of a mind to begin a blog post. Storm Isha has blown down the trellis archway in the garden and chucked the empty garden refuse bin across the driveway a couple of times but, in comparison to the Midlands, North, and Scotland, we on the IoW have been lucky. In our house, with blinds closed and curtains drawn, we almost eliminated the sound of Isha, and this area still has electric power. Now storm Jocelyn has joined us. Ah well. At the moment my little chores are done, Mo has been ironing for England (for our part of it anyway) and I have made her the customary second cup of tea. I can find no further distraction to deflect me from the keyboard. So here we go. 
TELEVISION.

Opportunity to mention an actress who was born on the IoW. Dame Sheila Hancock's performance in the 2017 film Edie (written by Elizabeth O'Halloran and directed by Simon Hunter) was worthy of any acting award you care to name. Sheila was 83 when she tackled Suilven, a mountain in Scotland. She later joked that the role of stubborn Edie would have previously been offered to and rejected by Judie, Maggie and the rest. Well, thanks be she took it. Wonderful.

We also watched the 2012 film Quartet, directed by Dustin Hoffman and starring Maggie Smith, Tom Courtenay, Michael Gambon, Pauline Collins and Billy Connolly. It was the second time around for us, but a cast of talented oldies is a magnet to a couple of oldies like us, and this film was packed with elderly talent, bolstered by the charming young Sheridan Smith. Loved it.

Watched the first of the series Dave and Jay, too. Oh dear.

And finally in this post:

NO! NO! NO! TO NATIONALSERVICE.

I wondered how long it would be before a call for the reintroduction of National Service came from some high ranking professional serviceman or warmongering idiot MP. It would be a disaster.

I was a regular soldier during the second (1939 - 1960) period of conscription. Decent young people made the best they could of it: the troublemakers remained troublesome, no matter what the outcome. There was a constantly negative atmosphere, particularly among those called up when WW2 was over. They didn't want the army, and the army didn't want them.

Speaking as one who actually lived through the second world war, and experienced the blitzing of Portsmouth, I would gently bid sabre rattlers: Stop. Look, Think. Two world wars with the promise of a better future, and - millions of lost and shattered lives later - we're still no closer to it. 

WW3 will probably make the entire planet uninhabitable. National Service wouldn't help that.    

Enough. I hope to be back on a jollier note at the end of the month.

Careful how you go.

 

    

Post 495. ELECTION YEAR IS HERE.

 

SO NOW THEY FEIGN CONCERN

AFTER YEARS OF INDIFFERENCE.
Funny how concerned for fairness Westminster becomes when there is an election in the offing. The splendid ITV television telling of Mr. Bates vs. The Post Office (Toby Jones as Alan Bates, and a fine fellow cast) has suddenly awakened MPs to the injustice suffered by over 700 sub-postmasters and postmistresses when a faulty IT system, abetted by outright liars on the so-called 'help' line, had them wrongly accused of theft.
Reputations, minds, lives were lost, and for years only a handful of politicians showed an iota of belief in their innocence or empathy for their plight. Now there are calls in parliament for 'suitable' compensation. It will never be enough but, if and when it comes, it should be big: very, very big!
NATIONAL INSURANCE.
From 6 January the main NI rate for employees has been reduced from 12% to 10%. Did I say there is an election in the offing?
You really must avoid cynicism, Dennis, it is so unbecoming.
TELEVISION.
Why was A Boy Called Christmas my 'best Christmas film' choice? Saw Maggie Smith was in it, so knew it would have to be good. It was.
Also enjoyed a re-run of Roald Dahl's BFG, directed by Stephen Spielberg, Mark Rylance was the BFG. Of course it was good.
And, back in the day, I recorded The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy. We watchcd it again and were enchanted again. Not an indifferent human in sight.

Lovely.
WORLWIDE
FORGET THE HAPPY NEW YEAR STUFF
TOO MANY LIVES HAVE BEEN DEVASTATED.
DO LET US HAVE SOME SANITY IN 2024

Post 494. ON THIS DAY IN 2022.

I HAD HOPES FOR 2023.

SOME HOPES, EH?
The economy is in a heap. Most of the public services are - understandably - going on strike. It's not a brighter Britain Those are the exact words I wrote on the last day of December 2022. Naively I thought it might improve. Huh!.
But we really are the lucky ones. The above picture of just about everywhere in Gaza at the moment shows what a complete nightmare some other countries have become. Don't tell me the innocent humans there - or in a previously peaceful country like Ukraine – are somehow responsible for the desecration heaped upon them, The perpetrators – of whatever race or creed - are insane warmongers: there is neither excuse nor need for their excessive brutality. I fear they are determined on yet another world war.
And from the point of view of one who lived through the 1939/45 upheaval, I would advise newscasters that the sentence: “Hamas, referred to as a terrorist organization by the UK government” is information when it is first announced, a reminder the second time around, and propaganda thereafter. In WW2 the authorities took our garden railings away for no effin reason other than propaganda: they couldn't be recycled for anything useful to the war effort. So I regard propaganda as a waste of space: much like advertising.
All of which is enough for this year. 
Watched the box of course and decided the best film was A Boy Called Christmas:

but more of that in the New Year
Which I do hope will be a good one for you.

Post 493. Index 9 Posts 401 - 492

 Aboud, Simon: 443 Ahmad, Evin: 485 Akhtar, Adeel: 416 Alexander, Sasha: 422, 489 Alibhai Brown, Yasmin: 417, 431, 453,469, 487 Allam, Roger: 442, 464 Allen, Mark: 471 Alsop, Marin: 442, 486 Andrews, Mo: 429 Angel, the cat: 410, 412, 439, 465, 467 Anne-Marie: 477 Armstrong, Alexander: 417 Armstrong, Alun: 472 Barenboim, Daniel: 412, 448 Barnden, Jac: 407, 415, 421, 424, 435, 436, 446, 458, 471, 477,478 Barnden, Mo: 401, 403, 410, 411, 415, 424 429, 437,445, 446,450,459, 473,476,478,480,483,484,487 Barnden, Neil: 401, 423, 424, 425, 432, 446, 477 Barnden, Pauline: 423, 446 Barnden, Roz: 402. 404, 413, 419, 421, 425, 427, 465 Barnden, William: 420 Barry, John: 476 Beard, Mary: 458, 486 Beauclerk, Charles: 487 Beck, Martin: 432 Bellamy, Matt: 433 Benedetti, Nicola: 485 Betty, the cat: 436 Bhaskar, Sanjeev: 464 Biden, Joe: 406, 423, 424 Bihimmaier, Anja: 483 Blomfield, Tom: 486 Bomsori: 483 Boyd-Kerr, Stuart: 453 Boyd-Kerr: Maxine: 412, 425 Bradbury, Julia: 410 Bradford, Barbara Taylor: 437 Bradshaw, James: 464 Brandon, John G. 424 Brecel, Luca: 471, 472 Bretton, Sally: 468 Brown, James Weber: 440 Browns, Harvey: 429 Brunning, John: 462 Buddy, the dog with John and Sue: 402, 425 Burke, Tom: 456 Butler, Jean: 416 Caine, Michael: 485 Caligula: 486 Camilla, Cameron, David: 490 Duchess of Cornwall: 423, 424 Capaldi, Lewis: 433 Carr, Ale: 482 Challis, D. 460 Charlatans, The: 433 Clarke, Allan: 478 Claudius: 486 Coates, Eric: 445 Cockburn, Patrick: 468 Cocker, Jarvis: 477, 478 Collette, Toni: 489 Collon, Nicholas: 442 Colman. Olivia: 472 Columbus, Chris: 414 Cockerell, Michael: 486 Coward, Noel: 445 Cox, Brian: 485 Cox, Michael: 486 Cromwell, Oliver: 430 Cuarón, Alfonso: 451 Cumberbatch, Benedict: 419, 492 Currie, Finlay: 472 Curtis, Simon: 472 Daisy (nurse): 463 Dana: 492 Davidsen, Lise: 486 Davies, Russell T. 492 Dayer, Ellis: 403, 413, 425, 428, 432, 433, 446, 453, 459, 477,487 Dayer, Mark: 433 Dench, Judy: 408, 492 Derham, Katie: 476, 482, 486 Dexter, Colin: 464 Dickens, Charles: 472 Dickens, Kim: 485 Dillow, Ian: 454, 471, 475 Dillow, Jean: 454, 471, 475 Dietrich, Marlene: 405 Dinnerstein, Simone: 441 Don, Monty: 486 Donohoe, Peter: 433, 476 Douglas, Barry: 416 Drudge, Heather: 446 Dunbar, Adrian: 406 Dunn, Tim: 434 Dyke, Sarah: 483 Earl (nurse}: 463 Eastwood, Clint: 440 Elfman, Danny: 441 Ellis-Bextor, Sophie: 477 Elphick, Michael: 472 Evans, Shaun: 464, 465 Eve, Trevor: 472 Ezra, George: 477 Fayed, Dodi: 491 Fayed, Mohamed al-: 491 Fedorova, Anna: 442 Felton, Tom: 416 Fischer, Ivan: 484 Fisher, Noel: 485 Flynn, Barbara: 468 Forlani, Claire: 468 Fowke, Philip: 442, 448 Fradgley, Keith: 459 Fradgley, Tim: 459, 487 Gambon, Michael: 489 Gardiner, John Eliot: 469 Gershwin, George: 441 Gourley, Andrew: 441 Graham, James: 432 Grainger, Holliday: 456 Greenstreet, Mark: 440 Grosvenor, Benjamin: 442, 476,478 Grout, James: 465 Haber, Peter: 432 Hanks, Tom: 469, 480, 492 Harden, Marcia Gay: 468 Harmon, Angie: 422 Harmon, Mark: 489 Harris, Richard: 489 Harrison, Bill: 454, 468, 488 Harrison, Kath: 454 Heath, Edward: 486 Heidi, former neighbour: 411 Henshall, Dougie: 485 Hirdwall, Ingvar: 432 Hitchens, Christopher: 403 Hitler, Adolf: 418 Holloway, Siddy: 434 Holloway, Stanley: 405 Hopkins, Anthony: 468 Horan, Niall: 477 Hoskins, Bob: 472 Hough, Stephen: 449, 476 Howard, Trevor: 437 Hunt, Martita: 472 Huntley, Storm: 469 Isaacs, Jason: 492 Jacobi, Derek: 486 Järvi (orchestra conductors): 476 Jansen, Janine: 412 Jansons, Mariss: 485 John, Elton: 478 Johnson, Boris: 406, 418, 426, 431, 434, 443 Johnson, Celia: 437 Johnson, Rian: 476 Jolie, Angelina: 480 Jones. Aled: 428 Jones, Owen: 417, 453, 469,487 Jones, Suranne: 405 Kanneh-Mason: 476.Kanneh-Mason: Isata: 484 Kanneh-Mason: Sheku: 486 Kasabian: 433 Kaufmann, Jons: 476 Keenan, Sinead: 464 Keller, Tomo: 412, 476 Khalife, Daniel: 486 King Charles III: 473, 491 King, Stephen: 458 Klieser, Felix: 484 Knight, Steven: 472 Kooks, The: 433 Kunz, Charlie: 449 Kuusisto, Pekka: 442, 476, 482 Lancashire, Sarah: 461 Lang Lang: 466, 476 Laughton, Charles: 405 Lawson, Mark: 458 Lean, David: 472 Lee, Laurie: 457 Lewis, Damian: 489 Lewis, Gavin: 419 Lewis, Paul: 482 Lineker, Gary: 464, 465 Lisiecki, Jan: 412, 433, 476, 487 Lyndhurst, Nicholas: 472 Lyonne, Natasha: 476 Mackenzie, Compton: 457 McCallum, David: 489 McCartney, Paul: 428, 433 McGregor, Ewan: 440 Madness: 433 Maguire, Kevin: 487 Mäkelä, Klaus: 441, 484 Malofeev, Alexander: 476 Marsalis, Wynton: 485 Marshall, Kris: 468 Mather, Keir: 483 Mears, Sue: 446 Mika: 466.477 Mills, John: 472 Minghella, Anthony: 452 Morgan, Sian: 402 Morrissey, David: 432 Mortimer, Bob: 406 Morton, Samantha: 416 Mosto, Francesco da 434 Muse: 433 Myrie, Clive: 482 Neeson, Liam: 485 Nelson, Tim Blake: 419 Nicholas,, Kerry: 454, 475 Niese de, Danielle: 486 Norcott, Geoff: 487 Norris, David Owen:481 Norton, James: 461 NYOGB: 441 O'Brien, Fergus: 461 Okenado, Sophie: 492 Opolais, Kristine: 476 Orbison, Roy: 417 Oundjian, Peter: 433 Owen, Mark: 433 Packham, Chris. 455 Pappano, Antonio: 485 Patel, Priti: 431 Paxman, Jeremy: 448 Pitt, Brad: 468 Perkins, Sue: 416, 456 Phillips, Lou Diamond: 492 PIANO, the winners: Jay, Lucy, Sean and Danny: 466 Picasso, Pablo: 487 Ponciroli, Potsi: 419 Potter, Harry: 414, 451 Power, Tyrone: 405 Prince Harry: 473 Prince Philip, 491 Princess Diana: 491 Pryce, Jonathan: 416 Pullman, Philip: 458, 467 Putin, Vladimir 418, 420, 421, 439, 434 Queen Elizabeth II: 408, 423, 430,444, 445, 446, 491 Raab, Dominic: 470 Rachmaninoff, Sergei: 437 Radcliffe, Daniel: 472 Rankin, Ian: 431 Rattle, Simon: 412, 485 Ravel. Maurice: 441 Red Arrows: 433 Ronalde, Ronnie: 492 Richards, Erin: 416 Rickman, Alan: 414, 449, 450 451, 452 Rigby, Sean: 465 Riley, Rachel: 479 Ross, Diana: 433 Rowling, J.K. 414 Ryder, Sam: 477 Rylance, Mark: 480 Schiff, Andras: 484 Schofield, Phillip: 481 Selby, Mark: 471, 472 Shadow, the cat: 409, 465 Sharp, Lesley: 479 Shepherd, Jack: 422 Silvestrov, Valentin: 442 Sizemore, Tom: 485 Smith, Maggie: 472 Sondhi, Maya: 426 Spencer, Frank: 487 Spielberg, Steven: 480 Spike, the cat: 439, 479 Stalin, Joseph: 422 Stapley, Lyla: 402, 433 Stapley, Wendy: 402, 404, 433 Stasevska, Dalia: 482 Suggs: 433 Terfel, Bryn: 476 Sutherland, Kiefer: 492 Tate, Catherine: 492 Tennant, David: 492 Thatcher, Margaret: 402, 486 Thaw, John: 464 Thompson, Wendy: 487 Titchmarsh, Alan: 450, 468 Timmins, Maureen: 471 Toksvig, Sandi: 486 Tolley, Adam: 470 Tong, Peter: 433 Toyah: 477 Trump, Donald: 430, 443, 470 Truss, Liz: 445 Tuckwell, Steve: 483 Urry, Marg. 411,478 Urry, Mike: 411 Van Dyke, Dick: 405 Vickers, Sara: 465 Vine, Jeremy: 438, 453, 469 Vogt, Lars: 412, 446 Vokes, Jan: 489 Wager, Anthony: 472 Wainwright, Sally: 461 Walker, Nicola: 464 Wang, Yuja: 441, 476,484 Waterman, Fanny: 487 Wayne, John: 489 Wells, H.G. 405 West, Dave: 475 West, Jean: 475 Whelan, Albert: 492 White, Daryl: 402 White, Jessica: 411, 413,(and boyfriend James) 427 Whitehouse, Paul: 406 Whittaker, Roger: 492 Widdecombe, Ann: 403 Widdicombe, Josh: 408 Wiegman, Sarina: 439 Wilkening, Anne: 488 Williams, John: 476 Williams, Robbie: 477, 478 Willis, Bruce: 449 Wilson, Keri-Lee: 442 Winkleman, Claudia: 466 Wood, Henry: 476 Woods, Hannah: 435, 450, 488 Woods, Mike: 421, 446, 471,478 Wynne, Greville: 419 Yusuf/Cat Stevens: 478 Young, Wendy: 471 Zengel, Helena: 469 Zimerman, Krystian: 412

Post 492. HO HO HO

IT'S NIGH ON CHRISTMAS

THE TIME FOR MASS REPEATS ON THE BOX.
The time for me, too, to rest on my suspect derriere until all the to-ing and fro-ing, the greetings card shuffling,  the gift worrying, the lights, the decorations, the 'who will be where on the two special days?' malarkey, etc. etc. is over, and we're starting to take stock whether we can possibly afford 2024. In the interim I shall again retire to:
TELEVISION
Which has recently brought us repeats of Renegades, a 1989 film starring Kiefer Sutherland and Lou Diamond Phillips, and Road To Perdition (2002) starring Tom Hanks with a stellar cast of acting colleagues. There was a beginning, a middle, and an end to both films, so we enjoyed every moment of them, second or third time round, whatever.
The winter schedules have also given us Case Histories Series 2, released 2013 and starring Jason Isaacs, Night Music: Roger Whittaker with guest singer Dana (first shown in 1982), and The Hollow Crown: Richard III  (2016) starring Benedict Cumberbatch as Richard, Sophie Okenado as Queen Margaret, and Judi Dench as Richard's mother, Cecily. Wonderful acting everywhere, and Roger Whittaker had a whistling technique bettered by nobody - not even Albert Whelan or Ronnie Ronalde -  along with being a really good singer.
Now we have the remainder of Shetland to see, and a new offering of Dr Who episodes written by Russell T. Davies, with David Tennant as the doctor and Catherine Tate as his travelling companion. Both programmes are on BBC One. Shetland is already a good watch, and Dr Who will attract its customary loyal audience, so all's well in the square-eyed world,
This post will be followed, early next month, by Blog Index 9.
I shall then probably sit back until the end of the year.

I WISH YOU AND THE WORLD A PEACEFUL CHRISTMAS.

Post 491. WHEN IS THE LAW

 NOT THE LAW?

WHEN IT FRUSTRATES POLITICIANS.
The UK Supreme  Court was asked to decide on the legality or otherwise of sending asylum seekers on a one way trip to Rwanda, and the verdict was otherwise. Oh dear oh dear.
So you are the government. What do you do now?
You announce that you will change the law, that's what you do. God almighty, you can't have your worst laid schemes thwarted by a legal system that you supposed to be on your side. What the hell did you pack the upper echelons with public schoolboys for if it wasn't to support you no matter what international code of honour you may be minded to overlook. No. Change the law.
I know the whole damned world is in a heap, but do we have to add to it in quite such a desperate, undignified way? Enough. Straight on to the old person's standby:
TELEVISION.
We watched the first four episodes of The Crown (season 6) on Netflix.
Though superbly acted, the comings and goings, the conversations, and the manipulations, of real people (many of them no longer alive) is, perforce, sheer conjecture. It shows.
The trouble with trying to tell such a story on television is that 'it has to be good tele.' So you tell it the way you think the public (or, if you are dreaming of a knighthood, King Charles) would like it to be. And if this had been written by Charles' PR team they couldn't have done a better job for him.
Mohamed al-Fayed becomes an outright villain, son Dodi Fayed an unwilling player in his father's ambitious manoeuvrings. Princess Diana a simple pawn in the 'let's use Diana' game, and Charles the compassionate voice of reason. Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip are the bemused voices of reactionary royalty.
Ignoring the many 'believe this if you like' scenes, it's worth watching for the acting.

It will be back before Christmas.
I'll be back soon 

post 490. RAIN! RAIN! RAIN!

THEN STORM CIARAN.

THEN RAIN...SUN...RAIN.
That covers Britain. Ireland, and the Channel Islands (particularly Jersey where Ciaron became a tornado). It has been an appalling experience for those most affected by it. Homes and premises swamped. Fields flooded. Roads impassable. All in all a disastrous inconvenience. A mental and financial nightmare. Quite soon now somebody will tell us changes will be made, and the experienced among us will know that's a load of balls. Changes cost money. Patch ups cost less.
If we have one consolation it has to be that we are not a Gaza or a Ukraine, damn their enemies.
War is inexcusable no matter who starts it. Non-combatants are always hurt by it. Those who start it should be forced to stand in the front line. Say no more.

Oh, something seems to have gone amiss in the voting system.

David Cameron is back as foreign secretary. 

So who is next for the political chopping block?
And why are we now paying bigger and bigger prices for smaller and smaller biscuits?

Back soon.
Mind how you cross the road.

Post 489. NEVER APOLOGIZE,

IT'S A SIGN OF WEAKNESS

WAS SAID BY JOHN WAYNE.
Actually he said: "Never apologize, mister, it's a sign of weakness" in John Ford's film She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. It was a quote later adopted (less the 'mister') by Mark Harmon's character Leroy Jethro Gibbs in the long running television series NCIS. Both actors said it with conviction. It is, of course, a load of bollocks. Never apologising (my preferred spelling) does not indicate strength, it indicates pig-ignorance comparable only to the hypocrisy of an insincere apology. 

Mention of NCIS has reminded me that the actor David McCallum died last month at the age of 90. He played Dr. 'Ducky' Mallard in the series. In the 1960s he had become very popular  in the TV programme The Man From UNCLE, and one of my favourite lines from the many series of NCIS was Jethro Gibbs' answer when Kate (Sasha Alexander) asked him: "What do you think Ducky looked like when he was young?" Mark Harmon timed it perfectly: "Illya Khuryakin?"
David McCallum was the trained oboist son of musical parents. He became a respected actor and was, I think, a rather nice person.
Another respected actor, Michael Gambon, also died last month. Pneumonia. Aged 82. He was the ideal replacement for the late Richard Harris as Albus Dumbledore and, arguably, the best television Maigret ever to follow Rupert Davies. I think he was a wicked joker, too. Thus to...
TELEVISION.
How do you lose two viewers for a complete television series in just one episode? Watch the first episode of The Good Ship Murder (Channel 5) that's how. At its conclusion I looked at Mo and said: "God that was bad." And she said: "Wasn't it awful" without a question mark. Ah well.

Thanks be for a light hearted film. We saw Toni Collette and Damian Lewis in Dream Horse (Prime Video). Took us right back to the joy of Hear My Song (1991) and The Full Monty (1997). This one was based on the true story of how a Welsh barmaid and cashier, Jan Vokes (Toni Collette), persuaded her neighbours to help her breed a racehorse, Dream Alliance, that might one day win the Welsh Grand National. Don't ask me if it happened. It's a feel good film.

And that's that for now.

Lord ain't the weather dreadful?

Ruddy clocks gone back, too. Ho hum.

 

Post 488. SO FAR IN

THE 21ST CENYURY

IS THE WORD FOR IT. 
In a desert, some three miles from the wall separating Gaza from southern Israel, Hamas killers murdered hundreds of  attendees (mostly Israeli) at a music festival, and took over a hundred hostage. It was another example of human insanity bringing grief to a vast number of innocents and joy only to the killers. Any belief that condones murder and kidnap is a shit belief. 
But two wrongs do not make a right, and retaliation in kind will not end this awful conflict. Those who think wars solve problems will wipe out this world long before climate change puts paid to it.
And Britain need have nothing to do with it. The 'sending a gunboat' days should be long over. 
Enough of enmity: let us turn to...
HOME AND FRIENDSHIP.
We were delighted to see Anne Wilkening at the weekend. Anne, on her way back to Cornwall from a course at West Dene College in Sussex, took the IW detour briefly to visit old friends. 

We are very old friends. The house in which we live was - many years ago - Doctor Anne's surgery: a single-handed practice. Mo was a receptionist. When Anne retired to Cornwall a Newport practice rented the property until, around ten years ago, new premises were built in the centre of the village, With Anne's blessing we then bought the house. We're comfortable here. The building has been around a while and there is a decent sized garden. Now the 'new' surgery in the village is falling apart and will have to be  pulled down. So much for forward thinking, eh?
Anyway, it was lovely to have Anne back here for a while again. She is a cherished friend.
At the weekend I also telephoned old mate in Pitlochry, Bill Harrison who, when last I phoned him, was having considerable difficulty with his hearing. Sadly, the old lad is now totally deaf.
He talked to me for as long as it took to bring me up to date with his latest situation, and rang off with the words "I don't know who I've been talking to..."

But, as I said last time, he is managing. I shall just have to write to him. 
And on a lighter note...
WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT

THE MODERN EXPRESSION OF (USUALLY PLEASURABLE) SURPRISE?

It is heard with monotonous regularity nowadays, and is a mild alternative to 'bloody hell!' and suchlike substitutes. I avoid it. Don't like cliche and nothing surprises me any more.

Which is all I have to say, except that today is our little buddy Hannah's birthday.
Oh Wow! Many Happy Returns, lovely Hans. Hope you have a great day! 

Post 487. WENT TO THE DENTIST

 AS A BIRTHDAY TREAT.

THANKFUL WE'RE STILL NHS PATIENTS.
Counting my birthday blessings. Mo, walking with a frame but sound behind a steering wheel, drove us to Ventnor for a dental check-up. Tim Fradgley did his usual polished job. We departed, heavy of foot, and lighter in heart and pocket, I think the bill under private arrangements would have been awesome, though neither of us was in need of major attention..
The practice staff were great. Could not have been more kind or attentive.
Sadly this country is heading the American way, and I doubt NHS dentistry will last much longer.
But where was I? Oh...yes...the birthday. Messages from family and friends, cards, and gifts.

I now have a new computer chair, the complete piano concertos (on CD) of Beethoven played by Jan Lisiecki with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, two books that could not have been better bought had I chosen them for myself: Piano Man, a Life of John Ogden by Charles Beauclerk, and Piano Competition: The Story of the Leeds by Wendy Thompson with Fanny Waterman and, as if that's not enough, a brand new black beret for when I'm being artistic.

For the record, I think I look less like Pablo Picasso than like an old Frank Spencer. So to...

SIXTY ONE YEARS OF MARRIAGE

CELEBRATED WITH THE ABOVE MESSAGE.
From my beloved, a sad but true reflection, and one to which anybody who has watched Jeremy Vine on Channel 5 with me recently will readily attest. I still look in if the handful of people who do not bellow or shriek are in evidence (e.g. Yasmin Alibhai-Brown,, Owen Jones, Kevin Maguire, Geoff Norcott): otherwise I leave it. I eschew UKIP, 'broadcasters', and 'former journalists,' too.
I can't stay grumpy for long, though. Lord, there can't be that much time left! Fact is, when Ellis put together the new computer chair and rather admired it I advised him not to buy one for himself: he may inherit this one sooner than he thinks. I'm getting fun from it now though.

See what I mean about the beret?
Go peacefully, you.

Try not to crash your career with crass comment. 

 

Post 486. IF YOU WRITE.

TAKE TO AND WRITE,

DON'T OVERTHINK IT.
Occasionally I stop to think how much of the time I have left in this world I can afford to spend overthinking: especially when it comes to the production of a few words for a blog that never has, and never will, bring me a cent in hard cash. Trouble is, there are always so many things to think about, and even an old scribbler can be lost where to stop. So I have a quick think...and write.
Recently there has been an 'escaped from Wandsworth' prisoner in the news attracting a bevy of retired chief inspector of police 'experts' to talk what should be common sense to even the most naive layman. "He must have had help." Seventy five hours later the escapee, soldier Daniel Khalife (hardly an Osama bin Laden)  was rearrested. What a relief! Now we can sleep soundly again.. And, without overthinking, I suddenly had another 'live' subject to write about, together with the last night of the Proms. How jolly.
TELEVISION.
On Friday nights I watch Gardener's World (BBC2). I am not a gardener. Not sure which way up to plant a bulb. But I lke other people's gardens when they are spick and span. I like Monty Don and his dogs, too. So does Mo. And she can plant bulbs and spectacularly fall down in the garden, so she is much closer to earth than me.
Glad to say she's gradually getting better after the last nasty tumble.

Last week on the BBC we saw Caligula, a documentary about Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus the infamous Roman emperor whose tyrannical reign lasted three years, ten months, and eight days. Professor Mary Beard was her usual down to earth well-informed self, and 'Bootikins' became a much more credible madman. We also learned that his successor, stammering uncle Claudius, was equally bad news. So don't be fooled by Derek Jacobi, Caligula's assassins should have been more careful what they wished for.
I also watched a programme about Edward Heath, the Tory Prime Minister who was ousted by Margaret Thatcher. I always thought he was a keyboard playing self-server, but he took us into Europe and he must be spinning in his grave now. Michael Cockerell's documentary was interesting and informative. It did nothing to change my mind about ol' Ted, but those in his party who wanted him out should have been more careful what they wished for.
Overshadowing everything else on offer, though, we settled down to
THE LAST NIGHT OF THE PROMS.
For many years I avoided the first half of Last Night on the grounds that much of it is an off-key dirge. Perhaps that's just my reactionary musical ear, but I really can't be arsed with searching for a tune. However, after last year's cancellation I watched the lot this year. The BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Marin Alsop, was in fine fettle, and it was particularly pleasing to see oboist Tom Blomfield and flautist Michael Cox seated next to each other again. The guest soloists for the evening, cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason and soprano Lise Davidsen, both did their stuff well, and the Promenaders were totally with it, whatever flag they were waving.
In the commentary box was the Proms presenter Katie Derham, lyric soprano Danielle de Niese, and strikingly blue-suited Danish treasure Sandi Toksvig. Who could ask for anything more?

Well, we had more. When the Rule Britannia-ing and Auld Lang Syne-ing was all over, a compilation of 'the best bits' from the entire eight weeks was shown on BBC iPlayer. Magic.
I think it all starts again next July.

Cheers everybody!

.

 

Post 485. A FEW WORDS

 TO CONCLUDE THIS MONTH.

IT DESERVES NO MORE
To finish off a typical British summer, and the lengthiest of the school holidays, a computer cockup left thousands of holidaymakers stranded here and abroad. The weather has been crap, the cost of living constantly worsens, and the less said about the political shit heap the better. 
It only needs those few words, doesn't it?  Well, worrying won't help.
Better to waft off into that old person's other world...
TELEVISION.
We have watched the film Red starring Brian Cox, Noel Fisher, Tom Sizemore and Kim Dickens.
The old guy who turns out to be a toughie has been done before (not least by Michael Caine and Liam Neeson), but Brian Cox is wholly believable, and his fellow stars are perfectly cast. Good.
We also saw the Netflix series Who Is Erin Carter? Evin Ahmad plays Erin, a British schoolteacher in Spain, who turns out to be a toughie. Dougie Henshall  is in it too. Watchable.
AND THE PROMS.
Apparently Sir Simon Rattle has parted company with the London Symphony Orchestra. He will be replaced by Sir Antonio Pappano. Sir Simon, who lives in Germany, has become conductor of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, which was conducted by Mariss Jansons from 2003 until his death in 2019. Sir Simon's last London Symphony Orchestra performance (Mahler's Symphony No.9) is being shown on BBC2 tonight. Interesting.
Also saw Nicola Benedetti play the violin concerto composed for her by the American jazz composer and trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. Interesting.
And a final word on August 2023. Lousy.

But keep smiling.