Frame - Day 18

So sad.

Frame - Day 17

Bobby's dreading confronting Declan.

Frame - Day 16

This sort of reminds me of Dr Malcolm in Bark.

Frame - Day 15

This is one for those who say Vincent has only one expression. Not that they have enough taste to read this blog...

Frame - Day 14

This looks serious.

Fuck the world, I want to get off

Excited to receive my new Sat Nav this morning, I tried to download into it from the manufacturer's site. Now I have a fucked computer sitting at the menders because some hideous bastard thinks it's fun - and maybe profitable - to pretend that his invention is a police lock on your computer because of an illegal download. PC World is trying to get rid of an ultra elusive virus, but I might yet lose everything on there. Meanwhile my old laptops are terminally slow. I already tried twice to post about this on my blog, to no avail. It's nearly an hour since I switched the latest one on, and twenty minutes since I told it to shut down when I realised it was getting nowhere, and it's still not there. The iPad is all I have left.

Frame - Day 13

The combination of the grey jacket and the dark shirt on those huge shoulders is so sexy.

Frame - Day 12

Profile, nose, ear , stubble, lips, curls. neck. Yes, this one has it all.

Jubilend

I'm not a royalist. I believe inequality. I really resent that I am not a British citizen, but a British subject.

I was once at an opera gala that the Queen Mother attended, and I didn't stand up for the national anthem. When asked why, I replied that I would stand up for the old lady on a bus, but not as a mark of deference.

On another occasion I was in the front row of the stalls for an opera performance that the Duke and Duchess of Kent were attending. They kept us all waiting, then we were expected to stand for the anthem. As usual I stayed seated. A woman behind me jabbed me on the shoulder and did a "stand up" gesture with her thumb, saying "Up". For once, the correct response came to me in good time. "Up yours," I replied.

So I have not strung out any Union Jack bunting - I've actually seen hardly any. There have been no street parties. I have watched almost nothing on TV. As for going up there, well, apart from the cold and rain, and the standing round that I can no longer do, I need a toilet every few minutes (OK, not quite) so I wouldn't have considered that. But there were a couple of things I wanted to see.

The first was Paul McCartney's contribution.



The second was the firework display at the end of the concert.


These I enjoyed less. I can't help thinking about the disturbance to the local wildlife, especially the birds, when we disrupt their sleep with our bangs and flashes.

Finally there was the flypast. Mostly I was hoping that after their trip along The Mall (pronounced to rhyme with "pal", not "fall") they might go home via my house. Concorde used to go over regularly, and the Red Arrows have been known to come this way during the Biggin Hill Air Show. But no such luck.



So I have still never seen a Spitfire, Hurricane or Lancaster Bomber fly in real life.

Frame - Day 11

Bobby doesn't looked too pleased about something.

Strasberry, anybody?

I came across some of these little beauties in the supermarket today:

They are strasberries. The name and the appearance are misleading. They are not a hybrid between strawberries and raspberries. Genetically they are strawberries. They are sharper than ordinary strawberries, but not acid. They taste fragrant, but don't really smell it. They are softer than the regular ones, so they just melt away from the stalks and dissolve in your mouth, no biting or chewing necessary.

All in all a pleasant experience that I will repeat if I ever find them again.

Frame - Day 10

Discovering old Heart-In-A-Box.

Remembering Puddy

In the spring of 1974, my then husband and I decided that the cat that was climbing our legs for food at our new flat must be a stray. We soon discovered that she was a pregnant stray. As students we didn't think we should let her have her kittens, so the vet gave her an abortion. We had lots of ambitious for names for our new cat, but by now she answered to Puddy (as in I tought I taw a Puddy Tat) so Puddy it was. She was probably about 2 years old. She was a pretty semi-longhaired tabby with a gingery tinge, huge eyes and a fluffy tail. Puddy was the start of my cat collection. Two years later Biggles arrived, and since then, except for a few weeks after Biggles' death at the age of almost 15, I have never had fewer than 2 cats. In total, since 1974 - 38 years - I've had 10 cats, and still have 6 of them. Puddy must have been nearly 20 when she died on 4th June 1992, and to this day I cannot talk about the tragic accident that led to her lonely, frightened death. She was such a beauty.

Frame - Day 9

The dismal grey suit, the bright flowers. The broad shoulders...

Frame - Day 8

What can I say about this expression?

Frame - Day 7

I love it when Bobby raises his chin and looks down like that.

Frame - Day 6

The scene in which Bobby is subjected to Donny's mother's ignorance - all courtesy of Frank.

Frame - Day 5

Reality hits.

Frame - Day 4

Steeling himself...

Buzzard Off

We've won! Another government climb-down, three in two days. They are going to leave the buzzards alone. Hey Cameron and your toff cronies, you can't beat the people, no matter how hard you try. Oh, and John Prescott, former deputy prime minister who is usually so hot to show the rich boys up - sorry you couldn't be bothered to help us with the quickest u-turn yet. You keep going with the inportant issues like Clegg songs.

Environmental Vandalism

This is Richard Benyon, Environment Minister:

His job is to protect our native environment. His latest plan to achieve this is to allow gamekeepers on the estates of the rich to protect their stocks of (non-native, commercially-bred) pheasant from the (recovering, protected, native) buzzard by allowing them to blast buzzards' nests. This will destroy the eggs (are we sure they won't "accidentally" destroy living young and parent birds in the process?) and reduce the threat to the rich people's shoots. I've already drawn attention to my opinion via Twitter. Do feel free to do the same, no matter where you live. The planet belongs to us all.

His Twitter address is @RichardBenyonMP.

Frame - Day 3

Even at this early stage, Bobby appears to be worried about his brother.

Frame - Day 2

Bobby wishes his dead mother a happy birthday. Strange thing to do...

Happy? Anniversary?

On June 3rd last year I bought a cabinet to house my cds and dvds. It didn't take long for me to notice that the shelves were sagging under the weight of the precise items it was built to hold. I inquired at the store and was told to request a spare set of shelves at the the customer services email address.

Here's a surprise - they don't have spare sets of shelves for flat-pack furniture. I've had to reduce the six shelves to just four so that I can double up some of the sagging ones. But for a proper solution I would have to return the cabinet to the store.

Well, here I am with carpal tunnel, a repaired shoulder and osteo-arthritis developing in my hands. I could barely put the thing together in the first place. Take it apart and lug it back to the store? I told them I couldn't do it. So they told me that was the solution. So I told them I couldn't do it. So they told me that was the solution. So I told them DON'T YOU EVER READ WHAT PEOPLE ACTUALLY SAY? I CAN'T DO IT!

Last November I wrote to their head office in an actual printed letter (with copies of all the emails) and paid real money for the paper, ink, postage (not forgetting my time) and they never replied.

Finally, last week, I'd had enough. I filled in their online form (again) and they told me...I had to take it back to the store!

I repeated the above sequence until they asked me to send them my letter, which I attached to an email.

Today they phoned me (what, so soon?) unable, sadly, to open the attachment. They can find no record of my letter. What a surprise! But they will refund me the cost of the cabinet if I send them either the receipt of a copy of the bank statement with the charge on it.

So here we go. The details they don't need to know will be blacked out.

Anyone think they "won't receive" this one?

Frame - Day 1

This woman only has a small part, but it's the best in the show!

Legacy - Day 10

Bobby's contempt for this over-privileged punk is clear.

Legacy - Day 9

No clever comment, just love this picture.

Murder Near the Cathedral

People of my generation are probably familiar with the story of Thomas Becket and his death in Canterbury Cathedral at the behest of King Henry II. The T. S. Eliot play Murder in the Cathedral was the basis for the film Becket, with Richard Burton as the martyred Archbishop who was to become a saint, and Peter O'Toole as the king.

There was nearly a murder close by today, when my Satnav directed me home via the town instead of the motorway. When I hit a huge tailback of traffic, and was forced to do a u-turn to try and find my way back on-track, I really felt like murdering that obnoxious little machine. It's true that, if there had been no traffic, I might have been quite pleased, especially when the top of the cathedral's central tower hove into sight over the rooftops. It's been a long time since I visited.

I was on my way back from a trip into the cool countryside away from the stifling heat of the city. This, of course, means a zoo trip! I went to Howletts.

This snow leopard could have fitted on the shelf, but chose to hang its head off one end, its tail off the other, and its belly off the middle:



I think this silverback gorilla was trying to tell us something:

The male Barbary lion has no mane - he's been neutered, as he and his mate have FIV, a highly contagious feline virus. But he really wanted to detach this meaty leg from the chain holding it to ther fence so he could eat it in private:

Anyone know how a clouded leopard sounds? I could hear this one in its private quarters, but I couldn't see it: The park is a perfect mixture of sunshine and shade. Add in the animals, and lots of nice people (though not too many...) and there cannot be a better way to spend a day.

Legacy - Day 8

Bobby presents his neck for kissing.

Sorry, honey, can't quite reach!

Legacy - Day 7

It was good to see Bobby so amused by the little boy. The boy was pretty good, too.

Legacy - Day 6

What a magnificent head! (What do you mean, which one?)

Memento Mori

Thoughts of my own mortality creep closer every time an icon of my youth dies. The latest is Robin Gibb, gone too soon to join his twin Maurice in that great communal grave in the ground. (Sorry, no heaven for me.) In 1968, as a 15th birthday present, I was given a ticket to see The Bee Gees at the Royal Albert Hall. Back then, there were the twins, Barry and two other musicians who were not family members.

By the time they had their "second coming" with the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever, I was no longer listening to pop music, though I can still appreciate it was good of its kind. But my teens were enhanced by their early music. In 1967, Robin was a passenger on a train involved in what became known as the Hither Green Rail Crash. Forty-nine people died. Gibb was covered in oil but uninjured.

Scary for me and my friends - but not as much for Robin - a bunch of us were out and about that night and decided to follow the dozens of emergency vehicles to see what was going on. We were close to the site when the police diverted us, but had already realised the problem was on the railway line. Later, when I found out how serious it was, I felt a strong link to the tragedy, and this extended to my feelings about the star who was aboard. Thank goodness he survived and was able to continue to give to the world he inhabited, both with his talent, and with his time and largesse, campaigning for injured servicemen and women, and for a memorial to Bomber Command from WWII. Sadly, he will miss the opening of the memorial next month, but hs will be remembered along with those it honours.

Legacy - Day 5

Don't you just love that big, chunky, masculine head? With those curls!

Legacy - Day 4

Bobby's brilliant brain is ticking over.

Bobby and Muffins

In my local shopping centre there is a cafe called Muffin Break. The muffins just melt in your mouth.

The service is also excellent. When I went there for a muffin-lunch today (smiles broadly) I was wearing a Bobby t-shirt, and the on-duty manager Debbie (seen below with her co-manager Ryan) declared her admiration - as did Blessing, a student who works at the cafe part time. As they said, It's HIM, he makes it!

I left the blog address in case they fancy a treat to thank them fro the treats they serve me with week after week.

Debbie and Blessing, if you're visiting, welcome to the home of good taste in men, just as Muffin Break is the nome of good taste in cakes.

Legacy - Day 3

Somehow I think Bobby would rather be anywhere than among this group of silly teenage girls.

Back in Black

Men in Black has been on TV several times over the last couple of weeks, and is actually on two separate channels this coming week.

In the Radio Times for next week, and I'm sure nothing to do with the new film coming out, veteran film critic Barry Norman chose it as his film of the week. This is a bit of what he said:

The film relies heavily, of course, on special effects but, just for once, the effects are there to serve the story rather than the other way round.

He probably doesn't know that Vincent almost spoiled all that for the other actors and the FX crew by actually doing himself much of the stuff they'd anticipated being done by special effects!
Here's a bit of what he says about Vincent's performance:

He goes lurching off, zombie-like and barely in control of his human shape...

Which short-changes Vincent a bit, but is much closer to his believable struggle to fit inside his skin than one ever finds said about the performance of the Master.

Legacy - Day 2

What a wonderful way to get a crick in one's neck.

Only Fools and Chandeliers

Over on The Valentine Cat Diane made a reference to a British comedy character, Del Boy, who was played by the inimitable David Jason for more than 20 years.

Although the comment she referred to isn't obvious anywhere on YouTube, some of the most famous - and funniest - moments are there. In this very early one, Del Boy and his brother Rodney have been hired to take down a chandelier in a stately home:

Legacy - Day 1

Look at him smiling at this woman! How come she doesn't melt?

Not the post I was going to write

I was going to take some pictures of the old part of London I was in today, but in the end I didn't get the chance to take them.
I had appointments at two teaching agencies. The first, at 10am, was a bit of an unexpected reunion, even though it was, for me, a new agency. A teaching colleague from over 7 years ago sneaked up behind to say hello - he's left the school I was made redundant from back then, just as disillusioned as I was. We had a chat, then met up for lunch later. Then my consultant from the last time I worked with an agency gave me a hug on her way out to see a headteacher with whom I worked while she was a deputy elsewhere (does that make sense?) Things were starting to look up.

The second agency was the one this consultant used to work for, and they too have connections with the school Catherine was visiting. I might be in a strong position to get the best possible pay rates if they have to compete for me!

On the way out, I was literally tripped up by a ridiculous arrangement of the floor, which accommodates wheelchair access by making a dangerous and all-but-invisible 3-inch drop along the edge of the ramp to the exit. I took a tumble, and bashed my head on the door with a resounding thump. If you don't hear from me tomorrow, call the emergency services, I may be lying in a coma!
So, bang (literally) went my ability to wander round taking pictures. It was a cab to the station for me.

Back at home, Catherine called to say the headteacher she'd seen will almost certainly have something for me in September (and would take me on before if I was available). It's a bit further than I would have liked, but still eminently do-able. Relief isn't the word! I couldn't leave you without one pictorial gem I googled - the Staple Inn, High Holborn, which I passed by a couple of times today. It's a 16th century building, so it was standing in the time of Queen Elizabeth I and Shakespeare. It withstood the Great Fire of London. It bears the name "Inn" as in "Inns of Court", not a tavern, and it's where the wool staple was weighed and taxed. It was damaged in WWII but was later restored.

Vanishing Act - Day 12

If you insist on looking like that sweetheart, I will be forced to kiss you.

Vanishing Act - Day 11

You can cut me in half, Bobby, just as long as you touch my hands.

Uke can do it!

I've always loved the ukulele. I grew up hearing George Formby playing and singing his cheerful songs. He was the hero of my hero, George Harrison. A while ago comedian Frank Skinner did a TV show about the instrument, and a ukulele convention featured, with young and old alike enjoying playing together. But much as I enjoyed it, none of this made me want to play. Let's face it, with carpal tunnel syndrome and fingers making a valiant effort to avoid developing osteo-arhtritis, I'd be stupid to try. But last night, on a programme called The Secret Millionaire (a rich dude going undercover to a deprived area to find causes to change his life outlook and milk him of some money) the man concerned took his ukulele with him, and as I heard him strum, I thought, "I want one of those!" They can be got surprisingly cheaply on Amazon, and I was tempted by the colourful array - oranges, reds, purples - but in the end I was swayed by a good report from someone about a normal-looking instrument:

Add in a Dummies book, a tuner and some plectra, and I'll be all set to start. I just want it to arrive!

Meanwhile, listen to and enjoy one of George Formby's greatest (and mildly rude) songs, When I'm Cleaning Windows:



By the way, in case you were wondering, the picture shows George playing a banjolele.

Turner Inspired by Claude

My favourite artist in the whole world ever is Turner. He was so far ahead of his time, even the Impressionists didn't match his powers of representation, in my opinion. But his first inspiration was the 17th century French artist Claude, to the extent that one of the conditions of his legacy (he left a vast collection of his works to the nation) was that four specified pictures - two of his and two of Claude's - be hung side by side in the then National Gallery. This is Claude's Enbarkation of the Queen of Sheba:

Here is Turner's Dido at Carthage:

It was from Claude's example that Turner learnt the effects of placing the sun in the centre of the picture, to increasingly stunning and abstract effect. This is the second exhibiton I've been to in recent years that compared and contrasted the works of Turner and those he inspired as well as those he was inspired by. His pictures are always head and shoulders above the others.

Vanishing Act - Day 10

Got to love that smile.

Mini Miniature

I imagine most people have seen pictures of very old wooden dolls. They tend to have hands and feet that are broken off or worn away, and rubbed or missing noses.

Well, today at the dolls' house fair I snagged a delightful Georgian-style doll - not a dolls' house doll, but a dolls' house doll's doll, less than two inches high, dressed beautifully in retrieved and recycled old fabric and lace.

The maker, unusually, is a man - and a black man at that, something rare in dolls' house circles. He takes immense pride in his teeny creations, which include teddies and other toys as small as pipe cleaners.

Here's my little treasure:

Vanishing Act - Day 9

Sleight of hand - though Bobby's not so slight!