hot off the press

a morph memorial for Tony Hart

when I was a child, I used to eagerly await the day when Vision On was shown. . .

my parents weren't the sort to encourage televisual participation - my brothers and I were only allowed to watch certain things that were deemed "suitable". . . (they didn't even tell us about "the other channel" for years, as they were concerned about the effects the adverts would have on our young minds) - so I was never allowed to send in a picture for the gallery. . . but I did in my dreams!

oh, how I dreampt of one of my pictures being chosen by Tony Hart - it's not that I wanted to see it on screen, just for Tony Hart to have seen my attempts at art

(come to think about it, I always wanted a Blue Peter badge too: only my mother didn't approve of sticky backed plastic or Peter Purves or Lesley Judd - she liked Valerie Singleton who was very sensible and wore sensible shoes and she just about tolerated John Noakes - so I wasn't ever allowed to write in or even make anything they labouriously showed how to construct. . . "and here's one I made earlier" never featured in my childhood apart from seeing it on the box. . . I sneaked a go at John's Cheese Flaps once, a kind of fried cheese potato cake, but my mother told me off because they were too cheesey) (I digress)
.
so when I heard of Tony Hart's death a while back now, I was very sad. . . when Oliver Postgate died I was equally sad, but receiving a Knit a Clanger tag on FaceBook made me smile. . .

. . .but noone tagged me about the event at Tate Modern today - I'd have had a far more interesting Sunday if I'd known about it!

nonetheless,
better late than never. . .

. . .this is what I have found to share with you: click on the link on the right "Morph 'flashmob' at Tate gallery" to see it in its glory and hear the tune that I hummed all those years ago as I went to sleep. . .

they kind of remind me of Antony Gormley's miriads of tiny terracotta people. . .

The summer sun is fading as the year grows old,
and darker days are drawing near,
the winter winds will be much colder,
now you're not here

I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
and one by one they disappear
I wish that I was flying with them,
now you're not here

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
like a leaf on a breeze you blew away
through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
you always loved this time of year

Loose fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'Cause you're not here

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
like a leaf on a breeze you blew away
a gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
as if to hide a lonely tear

My life will be forever autumn
'Cause you're not here

.

THE MOODY BLUES

see a penny - pick it up

all day long you'll have good luck

NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition

Mary Mary quite contrary
,
How does your garden grow?
.
.
With silver bells and cockle shells
.
.
And pretty maids all in a row. . . .

further adventures of a sad bunny

you don't really want to be reading this, I'm telling you, so please "switch off your *technology* and go and do something more interesting instead". . .

*insert word of your choice*

rather than the promised truth, I'll spare you the more gruesome details of my most recent 24 hours, but what I will tell you is that at one stage during the early morning I had a nightmare

I dreampt that a cup of (very decent, it has to be said, coffee) that XCH brought me when he popped in yesterday (without my POVSs) for all of a ten minute chat, had been spilt on the floor in my bedroom here in the hospital. . .

I was trying to mop it up, when it turned out instead to be water leaking in copius spurting quantities from the drain of the bathroom next door. . .

I was trying to mop that up, when that turned out to be water from a flume from one of those fancy swimming pools of which the youth of today (and some fully grown adults) are so fond. . .

I was washed down the flume, head under water, gasping for breath but swallowing gallons instead and choking on said gallons, clinging on to many and varied people who were rushing past me and apparently actually enjoying the experience on the way. . .

I recognised one of my old boyfriends amongst them - someone I haven't thought about for years, the guy who introduced me to the foul and disgusting habit of smoking, to which I am now addicted. . .

I was wearing my PJs, but everyone else was in very skimpy bikins or speedos. . .

I won't bore you with the rest, but needless to say I woke up in horrible sweat and very very distressed

despite that,
I wish you all a happy Sunday
and hope that your day is full of love,
people who love you,
some relaxation or an interesting persuit
and nothing too upsetting

for our silent friend from Tiscali. . .

it must be really weird

being a Head Doctor

you meet someone when they are at their very worst - you have no idea what they are like as a well, functioning, able person, making decisions for themselves, in control of the controllable aspects of their lives (which for each of us vary enourmously from day to day, season to season, year to year), feeling emotions within the range of what is considered to be normal. . .

I had a conversation with him this week about what is "normal"

I guess for anyone not in the care of a psychiatrist, it varies along a spectrum as well as day to day etc etc

I don't know what yours is, altho from reading your blog I have a vague idea about what you feel comfortable discussing in the private/public arena that a blog is, if you see what I mean - and again, everyone varies on that side of things

it would be tediously dull if you and I were just the same all the time

it is of concern that sometimes you are down, just as I know you are concerned when I am

but I suppose reading and writing anything is within one of the ranges of "normal"

when CH took me to see the WWW on New Year's Eve I was well off the scale and had been for a while; because she understands my "normal", she knew I most certainly wasn't

so she very WISELY instructed him to take me to see my GP, who wasn't available until a couple of days later (I spent a couple of days in bed, doing nothing - not normal for me AT ALL) - even then my GP wasn't available, but it turns out I met someone who has turned out to be great; he, my new GP, in his turn, knew that CH wasn't able to look after me in that "not normal" state properly and so I met the Head Doctor

I suppose one of my fears about breaking up with CH was that there would be noone to look after me if I was ever ill

I suppose my main fear would be that I will become ill with cancer, as my mother did (altho I trust this time her original symptoms would be diagnosed in me far quicker than they were with her when they finally realised what was going on and gave her six weeks to live)

I suppose it didn't even occur to me that I would become depressed again, that I might not even handle the solitude of a season very well on my own

I supposed a lot of things

I digress

the Head Doctor in his wisdom told CH to drive me straight to The Hospital without passing GO and without collecting any percuniary reward whatsoever

I am very fortunate to have a CH with private healthcare, to have a CH (ex tho he is), to have a CH that cares, to have a CH who cares at all for that matter - privately, publically, healthily or unhealthily

he dragged me kicking and screaming (not literally, actually, but there was a lot of resistance and a lot of wailing going on!) into The Hospital

yadda yadda yadda

*thinks comforting thoughts about Holes and Hepworth*

so, this week, when the Head Doctor and I met altho I sat there sobbing for most of the time I think he recognised it as sobbing from one end of the spectrum of "normal" for someone who is rattling from all the marvellous medication I'm currently chucking down my throat at regular intervals during the day, but has benefitted from the advantageous advice he provides me with when I ring him up when I'm having a bad moment

the thin end. . .

. . .but it will thicken up

so CH is finally to become XCH, but since he is a excellent XCH he is going to buy the children and I a house to live in, rather than a small flat which is all I could afford on my own; it doesn't have a garden, ziggi and malc, but it has a rather sweet little courtyard where I can sit and snuggle with Small Person in my swing seat - perhaps even offer dash some cordial to go in a fizzy drink! - and a rather interesting roof-terrace where I will be at the same eye level as passing London Underground trains (on an overland bit!) and watch for Middle One and The Teen as they come home from school

I'm going to learn semaphore I think!

yesterday

these wonderful things happened. . .

it was a sunny day - clear blue skies (and later on, when the sun had set and the sky was full of twinkling stars, I only really recognise The Plough but maybe what I saw was Orion's Belt*? you know horse, where the galaxy hangs. . .! ha ha ha! I sat outside having a fag thinking about how ordinary but how good my day had been)

*I digress**

**actually, it is an interesting digression: when my little brother was about nine or ten he had saved up all his pocket/xmas/birthday monies for so long that he had this huge amount of money; he was a very intelligent talented inquisitive chap - the sort that passed exams with straight A's everytime, could listen to a piece of music and sit down at the piano and just play it, without a score - and I mean really complicated music - he was an annoying little brat of a brother but nonetheless he had talents and inquisitiveness

one day he decided he wanted to learn about the stars - so he wrote to Patrick Moore and said "what sort of telescope should I buy with my money" and Patrick Moore, being the lovely man he is - I used to chat to him on East Croydon railway station where he wandered about looking very blustery in that eccentric blustery way that he has, as he changed trains from Selsey, where he lived with his mother, to wherever it was he was going (anyhow, lovely chap)

so, my little brother wrote to him, and Patrick Moore wrote back and said "why don't you come and see my telescopes and we can have a proper discussion"; my parents drove my little brother to Selsey and it just happened to be my little brother's and Patrick Moore's mother's birthdays, so they all had tea and birthday cake and the the lovely man advised my little brother what to spend his hard-saved money on (and gave him this huge book as a birthday present - Patrick Moore's Guide to the Universe, or something like that, dedicated and autographed and all) (a little like The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, only slightly more useful for working out from your back garden what you are looking at in the heavens and without DON'T PANIC written in large friendly yellow letters on the front)

anyhow, we had this medium sized telescope at home, not like those big ones you get at the top of mountains in the middle of deserted places where there is no light pollution and little other kinds of pollution, and it had to be taken out of the house least an hour or two before you wanted to use it so that all its parts could acclimatise to the temperature

and seeing as that it was only ever taken out on clear dark nights well before bedtime, that meant it was usually winter and winters were cold when I was young) (we'd be standing there shivering and trembling with cold and teeth chattering, but we'd each get a go looking at whatever it was pointed at) (by the age of fourteen I had seen the craters on the moon, Jupiter's moons and spot, Saturn's rings - all sort of cool stuff) (but obviously didn't learn my constellations)

so there I was on the back step, having a fag

thinking about how
wonderful
my day had been:
my children bonded!

yes, there were the usually moans and gripes and arguments, but I'd been to the garden centre in the afternoon with the top down on CH's silver convertible and spent more money than the two or three bunches of flowers I didn't get when I was in the head hospital would have cost, on some mulch and some spring plants for the tiny strip of soil that the invisible cat poos on in the back yard

(it has been looking very sorry for itself ever since we moved in, the strip not the cat - the cat had kittens, before xmas, as you know, so at least she was getting some attention - but the old house had a huge garden and I was all gardened out when I arrived here and it wasn't high on my list of priorities - my horticultural limits had been reached when I'd hung fairy lights in the neighbour's ivy, that creeps over the fence to the left, and that works at night when you need cheering up, but not during the day)

I asked for the children's help to bring everything in from the car, when they got home from school (crikey - compost weighs a ton) (I don't mean literally, vicus)

they might have even
whistled while they worked
they enjoyed themselves so much!

and then later on Small Person knocked a glass out of a cupboard and it smashed something else and the little kitchen was full of smashed glass and broken crockery and the tears of a Small Person who still doesn't understand you don't get told off for accidents (not in this house anyhow, altho I was always told off and shouted at when I was little) (despite the fact she dropped my new phone in a puddle last week by mistake and it broke and I didn't tell her off for that) (I never tell them off for accidents, I'm forever asking them to be careful, and take care, and that kind of thing - but I don't go "I told you so" when accidents happen and I don't tell them off - you are in such a state of shock already when you're little if something like that happens, the last thing you need is a grown-up hollering at you for being careless) (well, that's what I think anyhow)

so there she was all upset

:-(

we all heard the smash but she then didn't cry out for help (always a bad sign, when a child doesn't cry, I find) so The Teen and Middle One and I, who were snuggling on the sofa, got up smartish to see what had happened

Small Person was sitting as far away from the debris as she could keep her tiny bare feet, looking very very sorry for herself

so Middle One brought her some shoes and then moved the kittens to safety (four kittens currently live in the kitchen); The Teen discovered the joys of the hoover and eventually - after some trial and error (think it's the first time he has used the hoover for a while) - remembered how it works and sucked up all the bits and pieces that were big enough not to block it up (and then got carried away and did some more general hoovering!); I carefully threw out the bigger glass shards and other smashed bits, so that the dustbin men don't cut their hands on them. . .

I can't remember the last time the three of them pulled together like that - twice in one evening

actually, I can - it was Sunday, when I wasn't feeling very well. . .

have a good Friday everybody
I hope somethings in your lives
come together today

falling into that beautiful thing called. . .

LOVE. . .

anyone seen the back of a Galaxy wrapper recently then? they have a new catch phrase "never stop falling in love"

(quite what that has to do with chocolate I have no clue) (but then, what does a Galaxy bar have to do with chocolate you might ask - not much, if you ask me, since you did - and I'm looking at the ingredients listing right now) (it's all Greek) (no really, it is - Greek! why does chocolate made in Slough and purchased in the UK have a Greek listing?) (actually, I've just looked at it a little closer - it's in Turkish) (go figure)

anyhow, wrappers if I had a scanner hooked up to the computer, I'd scan in the examples (I actually have to admit I have three wrappers in front of me) (and no, I don't eat this kind of "chocolate" - I prefer 80% cocoa solids minimum) (if you really want to know, Santa gave Smallest Person a chocolate fountain for xmas, so I suspect she and/or her brothers are the "chocolate" consuming culprits in this case) (I digress)

where were we? oh yes. . .

LOVE

yesterday The Grauniad had a little pamphlet all about "love"

that was a slightly higher quality read than the back of the Galaxy wrapper, but you'll have to purchase a back copy and read it yourself if you didn't yesterday

as for the wrapper in front of me, there are two versions (kind of makes me think do they want you - yes, you, not me, cos I don't like Galaxy, as previously explained - altho, curiously, I do like Minstrels, and used to go out with the son of one of the Black & White kind but I'm not going into that here and now - do they want you to keep buying the chocolate to collect the wrappers and see how many kinds of "love" there are?)

the two I have in front of me cover "flirtation" and "euphoria"

actually, now I'm paying attention there seem to be five varieties: "attraction", "flirtation", "euphoria", "doubt", "the truth"

I don't have time to re-type the descriptions up now, as I have places to be and things to do (I'm sure you are ever so pleased to know that) (yes, you at the back lurking)

but it did occur to me that there are also five stages of grief

and we each have five fingers on a hand and five toes on a foot and most common starfish have five legs - so why did we used to count money in twelves? and distance in other quantities? and weight in something else again? I mean it is easy to halve and the quarter something and then halve it again to make eight, but only if you are cutting up circular cakes or squares or rectangles, so amounts divisible by four kind of make sense (so maybe it's that there are four fingers on a hand and one thumb?)

I should really go look all this up in an encyclopedia, but as I said I don't have time

anyhow, the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance

let's do a compare and contrast, between love and grief, you know kind of like an A-level essay, shall we?

"attraction" = denial

"flirtation" = anger

"euphoria"= bargaining

"doubt" = depression

"the truth" = acceptance

I think the good people at Mars' marketing are onto something, altho I think they typed up their LOVE listing in the wrong order. . .

(more later on these fascinating topics and the contents of my drugged and befuddled mind, I really do have to go - have a good afternoon y'all)

anyway, the wind blows