Sunday, December 28, 2014
Friday, December 26, 2014
Famous names
Look at how lucky we are to have Hollywood superstars in Britain.
Kevin Spacey has been running the Old Vic theatre company (way back this famous old theatre housed the National Theatre before its own new premises were built next to the river - and it was run by Laurence Olivier).
Then there's Gillain Anderson. Wonder why she's been off your radar recdently, my US readers? She's been living over here and making great programmes. The latest is a really creepy serial killer crime drama, The Fall. If it makes it over there, you must watch.
I've also been musing on the "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" scenario, since it occurred to me that a late acquaintance of mine interviewed gazillions of famous people over many years.
He was called Roy Plomley, and he invented and presented a radio programme called Desert Island \discs for over 40 years:
I knew him because I served on a committee with him in 1984, just before he died. Therefore everyone he ever interviewed for his programme is someone I am just 2 degrees from.
Here are a few examples. Not as few as it could have been, I got carried away...
Louis Armstrong Dirk Bogarde Mel Brooks James Cameron Richard Chamberlain
Bing Crosby Noel Coward Marlene Dietrich Brian Epstein Douglas Fairbanks Jr
Alec Guinness Liberace David Niven Norman Mailer Peter Sellers Paul Robeson
Ginger Rogers Stephen Sondheim Tennessee Williams
There are a few that stand out. As well as Julie Andrews, there is the person she is most famous for portraying, Baroness Maria Von Trapp. There's Guy Gibson, who led the Dambusters raid during WWII - and died before the end of the war - and the actor who played him in the film, Richard Todd. There's also actress Valerie Hobson, who played the Wife of Frankenstein, and after whom I was named. Sadly, she is most famous for being the wife of politician John Profumo, whose affair with Christine Keeler led to fears of a major security breach in 1963.
I wish I'd actually met a few of these people, or even discussed them with Roy way back then. Two degrees of separation seem a bit pointless now.
Kevin Spacey has been running the Old Vic theatre company (way back this famous old theatre housed the National Theatre before its own new premises were built next to the river - and it was run by Laurence Olivier).
Then there's Gillain Anderson. Wonder why she's been off your radar recdently, my US readers? She's been living over here and making great programmes. The latest is a really creepy serial killer crime drama, The Fall. If it makes it over there, you must watch.
I've also been musing on the "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" scenario, since it occurred to me that a late acquaintance of mine interviewed gazillions of famous people over many years.
He was called Roy Plomley, and he invented and presented a radio programme called Desert Island \discs for over 40 years:
Louis Armstrong Dirk Bogarde Mel Brooks James Cameron Richard Chamberlain
Bing Crosby Noel Coward Marlene Dietrich Brian Epstein Douglas Fairbanks Jr
Alec Guinness Liberace David Niven Norman Mailer Peter Sellers Paul Robeson
Ginger Rogers Stephen Sondheim Tennessee Williams
There are a few that stand out. As well as Julie Andrews, there is the person she is most famous for portraying, Baroness Maria Von Trapp. There's Guy Gibson, who led the Dambusters raid during WWII - and died before the end of the war - and the actor who played him in the film, Richard Todd. There's also actress Valerie Hobson, who played the Wife of Frankenstein, and after whom I was named. Sadly, she is most famous for being the wife of politician John Profumo, whose affair with Christine Keeler led to fears of a major security breach in 1963.
I wish I'd actually met a few of these people, or even discussed them with Roy way back then. Two degrees of separation seem a bit pointless now.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
You Dirty Rat
It's weeks now since Twiglet carried out her own catch-and-release programme on a rat. She caught it outdoors and released it in the kitchen.
Eventually it was murdered by the pest controller. I phoned the company (KnowHow - hello, nothing good to say about you) that provides the insurance on my ravaged dishwasher. First they said it wasn't covered because it was rodent infestation. Then they decided a one-off wasn't infestation. But the engineer didn't have the necessary parts. They were ordered and when they arrived I got a message to make an appointment. The first available when I could be there was last Friday.
They texted me the night before - a time between 8.50 and 12.50.
They didn't show up.
A phone call with 10,000,000 "press this key, press that key" options led me to someone who said the appointment had been cancelled! "They've been trying to phone you". No. My phone didn't ring while I was sitting next to it. There were no missed calls on the mobile. And no, your next non-working day of next Tuesday is not available.
Eventually they managed to book me a morning appointment for next Tuesday, but I have few hopes they will bother to turn up. After all, this is insurance. They already have my money. And it was my fault that they only allowed an hour for the visit, and the engineer said he needed more.
Couldn't be their fault, could it?
Pissed off? Moi?
Eventually it was murdered by the pest controller. I phoned the company (KnowHow - hello, nothing good to say about you) that provides the insurance on my ravaged dishwasher. First they said it wasn't covered because it was rodent infestation. Then they decided a one-off wasn't infestation. But the engineer didn't have the necessary parts. They were ordered and when they arrived I got a message to make an appointment. The first available when I could be there was last Friday.
They texted me the night before - a time between 8.50 and 12.50.
They didn't show up.
A phone call with 10,000,000 "press this key, press that key" options led me to someone who said the appointment had been cancelled! "They've been trying to phone you". No. My phone didn't ring while I was sitting next to it. There were no missed calls on the mobile. And no, your next non-working day of next Tuesday is not available.
Eventually they managed to book me a morning appointment for next Tuesday, but I have few hopes they will bother to turn up. After all, this is insurance. They already have my money. And it was my fault that they only allowed an hour for the visit, and the engineer said he needed more.
Couldn't be their fault, could it?
Pissed off? Moi?
Sunday, December 07, 2014
All kitties great and small
It seems to me that I don't have many pictures of my one remaining cat, Twiglet. I've started to remedy that.
As she spends most of her time now on my bed, I didn't have much choice of scene.
She looks pretty grumpy, but she's actually one of the best-natured cats imaginable.
Then there are the tigers. I didn't get any pictures of the cubs on Friday because they chose to sit in one of those places that makes photos difficult to take. But mum and dad were quite co-operative.
As she spends most of her time now on my bed, I didn't have much choice of scene.
She looks pretty grumpy, but she's actually one of the best-natured cats imaginable.
Then there are the tigers. I didn't get any pictures of the cubs on Friday because they chose to sit in one of those places that makes photos difficult to take. But mum and dad were quite co-operative.
Jae-Jae looks stern but majestic
Until he yawns...
Meanwhile Melati takes advantage of her rest from her young'uns to have a wash.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Mum of One
On November 17th I lost my darling Jaspa at the age of 20yrs 8mths. She was very poorly, and had probably had a second stroke on the day I came home from work to find her in a state of total collapse.
This is how my lovely girl looked on her 20th birthday. She was painfully thin, but was still enjoying her rather limited life.
Now she's gone, down from 7 cats, I only have one, 15-year-old Twiglet.
Here she is snuggling up her large frame with Jaspa in happier times. She is a lovely girl.
Twiglet brought me in a present a few weeks ago in her latest catch-and-release programme. Not the usual mouse, but a rat. It escaped under a kitchen cabinet and down into the cellar. I tried to catch it in a humane trap, but it wasn't interested in the lovely foods I offered it, preferring to eat its way through foam insulation and pipe lagging, electrical cord and plastic drainage pipe, leaving my dishwasher unusable and the floor flooded.
The first pest controller, sent by an insurer I've been paying good money to for years, refused to go down into the cellar, backing off with fear in his eyes and yelling "health and safety, health and safety". This is because he would have to lower himself through an opening on to a step ladder - no danger of falling, as he could easily hold on to the edge of the hatch. Once down there, there is no tiny cramped space, but the full size of the house. But he claimed he might get stuck. No doubt going into a loft area to destroy a wasp's nest would have produced a similar reaction. Maybe he should consider a change of career.
I called in a company of my own, and a man twice his size in every direction inspected the area and left the dreaded poison. Eventually an unpleasant smell permeated the house, which I presumed to be mummifying rat. He had to hunt quite extensively for it, as it had tucked itself away into one of its many nests high in a corner. And the insurance company has paid me the fee I had to fork out on my own behalf.
Even the company supposedly repairing the dishwasher initially said it wasn't covered because the damage was caused by "rodent infestation". When I pointed out that such an exclusion didn't appear on my policy, they decided that it wasn't an actual infestation (which would have counted as "neglect", I kid you not!) if it was just one rat brought in by a cat. They will pay. Yippee.
Then I'll have to persuade a further insurance company to pay for the flooring to be replaced. No chance this will all be done before Christmas.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Sunday, November 09, 2014
Sunday, November 02, 2014
Shibboleth
I actually used the word "shibboleth" the other day.
Gotta love that profile. And the hair - wish he'd stop letting himself be scalped.
Time to get up already?
The London Zoo tiger cubs and their mum spent most of a very warm and summery Halloween asleep on a wall behind some trees, showing barely a stripe to the visitors.
When the day was getting close to its end, they appeared.
Look, mum, I'm awake, mum, MUM!
I caught this giant yellow worm, but I can't get it out of the ground.
It's mine now. Damn, dropped it!
Got it back! Now to turn a hose into a sprinkler!
While those immature idiots play, I think I'll take a drink from mum and dad's bath.
I think this is my best side.
At last, I've got rid of them so I can have a preen. Honestly, a mother's work is never done.
When the day was getting close to its end, they appeared.
Look, mum, I'm awake, mum, MUM!
I caught this giant yellow worm, but I can't get it out of the ground.
It's mine now. Damn, dropped it!
Got it back! Now to turn a hose into a sprinkler!
While those immature idiots play, I think I'll take a drink from mum and dad's bath.
I think this is my best side.
At last, I've got rid of them so I can have a preen. Honestly, a mother's work is never done.I remember
Yes, I do. I am not losing my marbles. Yet. Not all of them anyway.
I volunteered to take part in a memory and dementia study for Imperial College, London. On Monday I had an interview with the researcher, and the was put through my paces by a psychologist.
When my mother's memory started to get suspect, I remember sitting through an interview she had with her doctor, so I thought I knew what to expect. But it was so much more. To name a few:
Count back in 7s from 100.
Repeat back stories.
Copy diagrams.
Draw line drawings from memory.
Repeat lists of nouns.
Repeat ever-lengthening lists of numbers; then repeat them backwards!
I did pretty well in most categories, though repeating six or seven numbers backwards got a bit difficult. But she had to stop me repeating the 100-minus-seven numbers because she'd never had someone do it so fast, and she didn't have enough of them written down to check against!
My main problem continues to be names. When I think about it, though, that's a skill I've never been great at. So I guess I'm not coming down with Alzheimer's yet. I'll just wait and see how the genetic test comes out, and whether they want me to have an MRI scan.
Very interesting.
I volunteered to take part in a memory and dementia study for Imperial College, London. On Monday I had an interview with the researcher, and the was put through my paces by a psychologist.
When my mother's memory started to get suspect, I remember sitting through an interview she had with her doctor, so I thought I knew what to expect. But it was so much more. To name a few:
Count back in 7s from 100.
Repeat back stories.
Copy diagrams.
Draw line drawings from memory.
Repeat lists of nouns.
Repeat ever-lengthening lists of numbers; then repeat them backwards!
I did pretty well in most categories, though repeating six or seven numbers backwards got a bit difficult. But she had to stop me repeating the 100-minus-seven numbers because she'd never had someone do it so fast, and she didn't have enough of them written down to check against!
My main problem continues to be names. When I think about it, though, that's a skill I've never been great at. So I guess I'm not coming down with Alzheimer's yet. I'll just wait and see how the genetic test comes out, and whether they want me to have an MRI scan.
Very interesting.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Semi-Professional
Finally, after restarting myriad times and trying 3 browsers, plus copying all my files to a spare drive, I have got online and can create a proper post for today.
And what's not to love?
And what's not to love?
Sunday, October 05, 2014
A Holiday to Remember
Back in the early 1980s I had a call from a friend who was working in Scotland to say he was coming to London. He was collecting a friend en route and wanted to pick me and a female friend up and take us to Brighton for the day. I had a pair of opera tickets for myself and another friend for that night. They were waiting for us at the theatre. I agreed to the trip as long as he got me back home in time. After all, Brighton is only 70 miles or so from London.
On the day, I got a phone call (from a callbox, no mobile phones then) at around 11am to say the friend had wanted to detour via Harrods, as he'd never been to the prestigious store.
They rolled up at some time after midday, then we went on to collect the other friend, who invited us in for tea and cakes.
I'm not sure when we arrived in Brighton or how long it took us to park. We had a stroll along the front, bought some sticks of rock, then found a cafe for a light meal.
On the way out of town we got stuck in a traffic jam, but eventually I got home and rushed in for a wash, a change of clothes and a layer of makeup. I phoned the theatre to make arrangements for my friend to pick up her ticket. I then jumped into my car and drove into central London...where I couldn't find a parking space. I put the car outside the stage door of the theatre, threw my keys at the duty fireman, who was also a friend, and he parked it for me while I went and got my ticket.
I sat in my seat at 7.25 for a 7.30 start.
It was my only holiday that year, and one I'll never forget.
On the day, I got a phone call (from a callbox, no mobile phones then) at around 11am to say the friend had wanted to detour via Harrods, as he'd never been to the prestigious store.
They rolled up at some time after midday, then we went on to collect the other friend, who invited us in for tea and cakes.
I'm not sure when we arrived in Brighton or how long it took us to park. We had a stroll along the front, bought some sticks of rock, then found a cafe for a light meal.
On the way out of town we got stuck in a traffic jam, but eventually I got home and rushed in for a wash, a change of clothes and a layer of makeup. I phoned the theatre to make arrangements for my friend to pick up her ticket. I then jumped into my car and drove into central London...where I couldn't find a parking space. I put the car outside the stage door of the theatre, threw my keys at the duty fireman, who was also a friend, and he parked it for me while I went and got my ticket.
I sat in my seat at 7.25 for a 7.30 start.
It was my only holiday that year, and one I'll never forget.
Semi-Detached
The stubbly look before he becomes entranced with that nasty witch is far more attractive than the smooth look he adopts when he takes her out.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Mothers and Babies
Oh dear. Photobucket wouldn't let me display my new photos, so to get the best view, click on the pics.
At last mummy tamarin has her twins with her.
Doesn't last though. The aunties want their turn.
Tiger mother with two of her cubs relax in the sun.
At last mummy tamarin has her twins with her.
Doesn't last though. The aunties want their turn.
Tiger mother with two of her cubs relax in the sun.
After a drop of rain mum decided to give the cubs a lick'n'dry.
Meanwhile dad was dozing with a stone pillow.
Seizure
Bobby's wondering - this is just before he cuts his hand to make the suspect faint! Suspicion confirmed.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Big babies and small
So many sweet pictures I couldn't pare it down any more than these!
Stop washing and look at all the people.
Time for a walk in the jungle.
I am a big brave cub and I will ROAR at you!
And then I will retreat with dignity.
See, I can climb this big tree!
Now we can race back down.
See me pose? See how big I am!
My bones have melted.
And my head won't stay up.
I can s-t-r-e-t-c-h.
Wossat? Wossat? Can we eat it? Can we play with it?
Meanwhile dad sleeps on a full stomach.
So we join him in a snooze. Even though mum scratched his nose and they had to be separated...
A nice smelly sack makes a great blanket for a cheetah.
Tiny baby emperor tamarin (a twin!) with auntie golden lion headed tamarind.
Then over to mum.
And back to auntie.
Aaaaaah!
Stop washing and look at all the people.
Time for a walk in the jungle.
I am a big brave cub and I will ROAR at you!
And then I will retreat with dignity.
See, I can climb this big tree!
Now we can race back down.
See me pose? See how big I am!
My bones have melted.
And my head won't stay up.
I can s-t-r-e-t-c-h.
Wossat? Wossat? Can we eat it? Can we play with it?
Meanwhile dad sleeps on a full stomach.
So we join him in a snooze. Even though mum scratched his nose and they had to be separated...
A nice smelly sack makes a great blanket for a cheetah.
Tiny baby emperor tamarin (a twin!) with auntie golden lion headed tamarind.
Then over to mum.
And back to auntie.
Aaaaaah!
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