The Hoarse Whisperer.

Due to more than a touch of laryngitis in the family home, meaning that excursions other than to work and to buy food, have been curtailed, we have been spending far too much time watching Fringe. Silently watching it for the most part I might add, as conversation has been somewhat one-sided. Now don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing that I like more than the sound of my own voice, except when it is recorded of course at which point it bears no resemblance at all to the voice I hear in my head.

I digress, so with no one to argue the toss with me I have formed a hypothesis that Fringe type activities do wonders for your appearance. In the first series Blair Brown, I thought, looked her age, in a good way I mean as I’m not a fan of the plasticised look so many of the celebs of my generation go for. Series two gave us the flashback to the characters younger days, where faces were smoothed a bit for authenticity, but not to the extent of Jeff Bridges regression in Tron Legacy, anybody else think his regressed image looked as if it could have come off the Starman set?

Digressing again, so we had the great flashback and then we jumped forward again and yet she still looked a little smoothed to me. Now I’m not suggesting she had a bit of work done between series one and two, but if she did it was well done as she doesn’t look plastic, of course it may just be the newly discovered scientific light bulbs in Massive Dynamic that refracts the light in such a way to be a window to your face ten years ago.

If it’s not classified do you think I can pick up a couple of those bulbs in Wilko’s?

Grandlins (the new batch)

We trooped up London the other day to celebrate the 2^nd birthday of the great grandson, a jungle themed eatery was our destination and we had a table of 16, mostly adults. The 3½ year old great granddaughter probably had the best time she really loved watching the animatronics moving and got quite excited every time the thunder rolled.

We are a stepped generational family and we have stopped trying to explain to others who is who and what the relationship is, for when all is said and done family is family and the generations just self-select into their own age groupings.

The nephews and nieces are also having children now as well and the exciting news is that we are expecting a new grandchild at the beginning of next year which we are so looking forward to.

What this all means is that after a considerable gap when we had no small children in the family we now have several little ones (and two more on the way), running around at family parties. It is just great watching the next generation arrive and begin to form relationships with each other and I for one just can’t wait to see how large this batch is going to be!

Mental Wealth

To everything there is a season, this is a time to be serious, I mentioned the other day that I had been to a film screening of a really good short film about mental health at the South London Gallery, in Peckham. If you want to see it yourself go to www.mindinbexley.org.uk click on Our Services then Peer Mentoring, scroll down and watch Mind2Mind peer mentoring video.

It is an extremely moving account of people’s real life experiences and although it manages to evoke some of the desolation that mental ill health sweeps over the individuals emotional landscape it is mostly uplifting. Why? because this intervention really works and it makes a significant difference to people’s perceptions of themselves and their intrinsic value to the world. For each of the amazing people who have so willingly opened up their lives publicly in this video there are another ten who could tell a similar story of the journey from darkness into light.

If the issue of mental ill health touches you or someone you are close to, you are not alone, there is a wide range of support available to offer help to those experiencing distress and their family or carers. This film just illustrates one of many services that can offer real help and support.

A Taste of Sunny

Having already bored family, friends and work colleagues with how much I enjoyed the villa holiday in Portugal I thought I’d give it an airing here as I’m not quite ready to let go of it yet. First time to Portugal so an all new experience for me and what a nice one it was. Definitely liked the Villa experience, only done it once before and that was in Florida where we were out and about so much that we probably didn’t appreciate it as a chill out zone, but Portugal was so laid back it was real rest and relaxation. The Villa was lovely, lots of space, a really good sized pool and no need to rush and get your towel down on the sunbeds, highly recommend it as a lifestyle to which I aspire to become accustomed.

Yes, there was exercise, quite a few walks, well ambles really, lots of glass lifting, a bit of swimming, more glass lifting and picking figs and tomatoes. Then, after all that exertion, some well-earned lazing by the pool with a book in one hand, a glass in the other and good company to share it with, what more could anyone want. The people were friendly, everywhere was clean (always a big plus for me) and the food was great, fish, fish and more fish, seventh heaven! Would I go back again? Oh yes, you bet your lucky cockerel I would.

A Desiccated Follower of Fashion.

The colder weather the other day had me thinking of school days and the amazing garb we wore in those days, when our torso’s were wrapped and packed but our legs were bare, got me mentally listing the school uniform. In the winter a vest, liberty bodice (oh, those rubber buttons!), amazing navy blue bloomers with legs that pulled down to just above the knees, school blouse, tie, pinafore dress, school cardigan, gabardine mac, black lace up heavy shoes and knee high socks.  Every winter throughout infants and juniors the back of my knees would crack and bleed from the cold weather. In the summer it was a breeze in red gingham dresses, school cardigan and white ankle socks with buckled sandals, but still in the navy bloomers and as mum’s motto was “ne’er cast a clout ‘til may is out” the liberty bodice was around for a while too! The boys worn the same all the time, heavy flannel short trousers that came just above the knee, grey shirts, striped school tie and  thick v necked jumper.

Thankfully secondary school brought with it the opportunity, for girls, to wear thick stockings in the winter (no we did not have tights in those days!) but also brought with it an amazing navy blocked felt hat in the winter and a bright green tailored beret in the summer. Detention if you were caught out of correct school uniform meant that hats had to be worn all the way home, even if you were riding your bike, so they were not taken off and stuffed into satchels, unlike the boys who were always taking off their caps! However in the winter when it rained and the front brim of the felt hat peeped out from under the hood of your gabardine mac it shrank right out of shape and some girls who didn’t wear hoods ended up with hats that looked more like a kippah.

Game of Tomes

Knights and Viking types, bloody battles, beheadings, you get the picture ? well I  would normally have said no thanks but my son said I would like it and I do. True, not too keen on the chopping off of hands and heads but the characters are so well drawn and just when you think you have their measure you find out something else about them that shifts your perception of them again and again. Not one to do mastermind on as there are just too many characters, detailed history and geography, my guess is that the author has written the character and relationship listings as much for himself as for the poor reader.

Just when you think you have the measure of it in pops some magic, giants and even the artic zombies but what an engaging read. The saga I am referring to is “A song of Ice and Fire” and the twists and turns had me hooked quite early on but what is particularly good about this is that each book, or part book, brings something new. I’ve finished the 2^nd volume of the 3^rd  book and can’t wait to see other shocks and surprises there are in store in book four.  Who is good but flawed and who is really bad and how that shifts as the tale is told from a different perspective keeps your attention but I try not to invest too much in any of the characters because the goodish guys do not always survive. Having said that, I’m really very firmly in Arya’s camp at the moment and so want her to be reunited with Nymeria.

School of Rock.

Went to the South London Gallery, in Peckham, the other day, it was for the screening of a really good short film about mental health and maybe I’ll tell you more about that another time.

A colleague and I went out into the small courtyard at the back after the showing just to get some fresh air and look at the building, and as we were looking up at the big windows and brick work we both commented on how it reminded us of our respective schools. It was so evocative that it triggered a host of recollections during the train ride home.

The infants and junior school I went to no longer exists, (well the name lives on in another building that used to be a secondary school) it was torn down years ago and they built a residential home on the site.

The infants school was fairly modern, a separate single storey building clearly built to augment the old building that housed the juniors. It had a communal playground for boys and girls and the separate dining building was in its grounds. Once advanced to the junior school you ventured once a day down the steps into the infant playground for your school dinners.

The junior school was a massive cold building with outside toilets. There was a playground for the boys and one for the girls where we met early in the morning, our mothers or aunts or grandmothers would bring us to the respective entrances and in we would go. In those days it was very rare to see the dad’s at the school gate and a special treat and real kudos if your dad collected you from school. Adults did not enter the playground or the school, the horror if a parent went in to the school that meant very serious trouble. Mostly you would take in a note from your parents if anything needed communicating.

Once in the playground there would be much running around, especially in the winter when bare knees were chapped and raw, in order to try and keep warm.

When the whistle was blown we would all line up in our class lines and file into the back entrance of the school to the cloakroom, rows and rows of pegs for our coats, with wire shoe racks underneath, the boys side of the school was a mirror image. Once de-cloaked we would file along the cold echoing hallways, or up the steep stone staircases, to the classrooms, where we would be reunited with the boys. The rooms had huge high ceilings and big high windows that we could not see out of, so no chance of distraction there, and big old desks with a hole for the china inkpot. We had permanently blue fingers from the ink and lots of drips and blotches on our paper! However hard, they were good times and it is a real shame that the building didn’t survive, it was the sort of place they would make into luxury flats these days.

One last thought, I still don’t get why it was fine for us to play with and share a playground with the boys from 4ish to 7 years, but to have to be segregated from 7 to 11 years and then OK to be back with them from 11 years onwards at secondary school!

Que Sera Sera, What Will It Be?

Letters are addressed to someone and are written specifically with them in mind, they may share some of the information with other people but basically it is a private communication. The blog however is just “out there” and once “posted” ceases to be your private thoughts, of course maybe no-one will read it but anyone could.

So what do you write, what are the boundaries for those of us who do not subscribe to the Jeremy Kyle life expose experience?

What is the Litmus test? Something you would tell strangers on planes, trains, and automobiles, things you would share at work (if you had the time), or the sort of stuff you pontificate about at social gatherings when the hosts wine has flowed a little too freely (you know who you are!) or something that won’t embarrass the children or grandchildren.

I guess for me all of the above, except the embarrassing the kids, ‘cos let’s be honest there is no way I am ever going to avoid that!

What should it aim to be comedy, tragedy, drama, intrigue, pathos? Should the tone be “Saga!” or “Meldrew” of course it could well end up being a total farce!

The decision is I will be writing to you, yes you, whoever you are, perhaps a very special person to me, or an acquaintance or possibly a poor unsuspecting and unwary stranger. So if you are bothering to read this hello and welcome to my world (or blog)!

To Blog or not to Blog, That Was the Question!

Well why not, I don’t think we should leave all the self promotion and aggrandizement to the young. Clearly technology belongs to them, just watch those arthritic free fingers and thumbs fly over the blackberries and i-phones sending endless texts, twitters, face book updates and blogs.

In all honesty the only bit that really appeals to me is the blogging and when all said and done what the older generation has to say can be just as asinine or just as perceptive as the new kids on the block, or blog!

Back when we were the new generation, I’m talking ‘bout my generation, we still had to put 4d in the slot and press button A to keep in contact, so things moved at a different pace and in a different place.

Meeting at the coffee bar, hanging out in particular locations, parks, street corners, OK so that hasn’t changed but we had to be “in the Know” or have pre-organised arrangements, there was no such thing as a mobile, many of us didn’t even have a house phone (landline) back then.

When friends moved more than a cycle or a bus ride away, even if one of you had parents with a phone it was expensive to use, sometimes you would set times to be a t a phone box, but 4d didn’t last long either, if you had 4d to spare! So we wrote letters I was a copious letter writer in my youth and continued to be so until phone contact became much easier and affordable but even then with some people letter writing was still the communication medium of choice.

So in essence that is why the decision was to blog, it is the nearest form to the free flowing hand written paper and pen outpouring of my younger days and although it is a keyboard, it exists in the ether and it has no one dedicated recipient it kinda feels like coming home!