Interview Time

Got an interview for the plant job at 09.30 tomorrow morning...Is this the one? Please please please

Star Wars III - Shame about the gore

My kids love the Star Wars movies, but Esther (7) won't be seeing it at the cinema and having just been there myself, not when it comes out on video/ DVD either! Star Wars III is a 12A, unlike Chapters I & II which are PG and IV, V, & VI which were U.
I thought, based on the past films that it would be safe to take Naomi (10) & we enjoyed the film right up to nearly the end when George Lucas decided that we really needed to see in full technicolour and hear in Dolby surround sound just why Darth Vader needed that kinky black cover-all outfit with the asthmatic breathing and the discomfort (understatement) he was in at the time just prior to acquiring it.
It was an unnecessarily graphic gory indulgence that spoilt the film for my daughter ( I didn't quite get my hands over her eyes in time) and means that a large percentage of the younger audience will be excluded from knowing how the story ties together. It would have been very easy to allude or allow the imagination to gauge the degree of injury without actually having to watch Darth Vader catch fire, writhe, scream and subsequently ooze gently on the screen in full view.
Family viewing it ain't and I very much doubt they'll cut that sceen before it comes out on DVD. Shame.

Hurrah!

They've done it! Yesterday afternoon my Grandmother finally got her operation and despite all the cautoinary comments and veiled preparations for a potentially terminal outcome, Granny has sailed through so far. She came back from theatre smiling and waving and when the Ward Sister came in to check on Granny's nebulizer to find her busy lifting it out of the way in order to munch on a strawberry, she had to walk away as she was laughing so much.
My Mum rang this morning to enquire how Granny was to be told "Wonderful". She has yet to get up and stand/ walk, that is the next crucial step (no pun intended), but so far, things are looking good.
Praise God!

Excuses, Excuses

Back in East Surrey Hospital today to see my Grandmother and took Naomi. Those of you with experience of the NHS will not be suprised to hear that they have yet to get round to operating on her. She was, once again "Nil by Mouth" and following the anaesthatist's visit we had confirmation that once again, they would be looking to operate...
No real suprise that they (again) ran out of operating time so they now say tomorrow afternoon, barring any emergencies that may appear. At least Granny's (apparently) on the top of the list so should go down first. The nurses on the ward are getting a bit miffed with it too, but are very good at ensuring she gets food and drink as soon as they are told that she's not going down.
My parents are up from Devon to see her and my sister turned up too - a nice little family get together really, especially when my Uncle and his wife also dropped by. Fortunately the nurses are happy to be flexible on the "only 3 visitors per bed rule".
Amusing part of the afternoon was seeing my parents trying to work their new mobile phone. Mum mislaid the last one and they are not the most technically minded as was evidenced when they came back mystified that it wouldn't make a call but kept saying "message sent". I explained that they were sending my Aunt blank texts and tought them how to scroll down to the contacts page. I also had to write down a step by step guide to finding and then dialing a number. At least if I get a blank text message, I'll know who it's from!

Possibility..

Found some online job sites and have been merrily posting my CV to any that look promising. Has generated results as had a meeting today with an agency - there's a possibility of a job (don't cheer just yet, been here before). Its selling again, still to office occupiers etc, this time it's plants. All those lovely displays of potted plants that make an office look more attractive, inprove the atmosphere. Someone has to sell them and someone has to buy them together with the maintenance contract. Time will tell.

95 not out

I spent yesterday in East Surrey Hospital visiting my grandmother. She is 95 years old and although blind in one eye and going deaf still has the vast majority of her marbles. I hope that if I reach that age I can still remember all my great grandchildren's birthdays - I have enough trouble with just the two offspring, let alone the 26 granchildren and great grandchildren she can rattle off. Quite a remarkable woman!
Being advanced in years, she is also quite frail and took a tumble resulting in her cracking her hip which requires an operation to sort it out. Not a complete hip replacement a la Queen Mother, but some sort of a patch up job to get her back on her feet.
She says she is just getting over a 'chest infection' which turns out to be pneumonia (again! - that's 3 times in the last 18 months) so her constitution remains formidable although these bouts are taking their toll. They were due to operate yesterday so she was nil by mouth and quite chatty although the oxygen she's on does make her focus wander occasionally. We had the anaesthatist up, a fresh heart check thing, more blood, more consultation to see if they felt she was up to the op and finally a green light, all systems go, she'll be taken down at 3.30.
At 4.30 she was still there and when my Aunt checked, found that they had run out of operating time so not today after all. It's not as if this is the first time either, this must be about the third. Oh well, we'll have to see if they get round to it tomorrow. It is a risky procedure down to her age allied with her physical condition and I hadn't realised (never having undergone major surgery) that they ask about should anything go wrong, if you want to be resuscitated... Sobering, but verging on the comedic when you are having a consultation behind the curtains in private and have to end up virtually shouting "If anything goes wrong and your heart stops, do you want to be brought back" allowing the whole ward to participate! Her response of "I'm not going to die" whilst reassuring, wasn't quite what we were looking for. My Aunt's arrival allowed any residual confusion to be cleared up. Granny didn't appreciate what she termed their preoccupation with her death and later on suddenly came out with "Well its up to Jesus anyway. If he wants me home then it's up to him." Who can argue with that.

Move over Billy Elliot!

New sensation in the dance world! Last week I am picking women up, this week I am dropped in the deep end so to speak. We (www.chelsea-ballet.com) have a show coming up in June featuring a piece named the Bracelet which is danced to some of Bartok's music. I had volunteered to be part of the chorus for this performance but on arriving at rehursal on Tuesday, Ross asked me if I would dance his part which is one of the main roles as he wanted to do more of the direction and choreography without having to do the dance bit. You could have knocked me down with a feather! It's not technically difficult (for me to dance it has to be simple!) but even so it is a bit daunting. Just got to lift Katrina up twice without dropping her now...

Found it!

I knew it was there somewhere lurking outside the back door and sure enough, it was. You know those archealogical digs where entrepid explorers follow a tale of a lost city, hack their way through dense undergrowth, confront dangerous beasts and finally achieve their goal and emerge grimy but victorious? Well it wasn't quite like that.
I had it on good authority (Claire) that somewhere under the piles of bricks, wood, rubble and plaster lay the remains of our back garden.
A skip was duly delivered and the expedition was mounted to try and discover the lost garden of the Downings. You will be pleased to hear that local lore was right (as if the wife could ever be wrong) and indeed, by the end of a long and arduous day, we had found what was definitely the remains of our back garden, with the emphasis on the word 'remains'.
Dangerous beasts there were too. Claire had seen a rat the day before - fortunately I did not and moving a pile of insulation proved more difficult due to the bumblebees building a nest in it. They, plus a small amount of insulation ended up in a broken orange plastic bucket which now lives in a nettle patch just over the back fence in the allotments.
Now if they could just hurry up and take the skip away, I could park outside my house again...

Superman!

It is not often I suprise myself, but last Tuesday was one of those days. As many (?) of my dear readers will know, I took up the gentle art of ballet a couple of years ago (no sniggering at the back - or front) and all comments relating to tights will be studiously ignored. Anyway, we had a pas de deux (dancing with a partner) masterclass last week which was geat fun if a little strenuous.
I am not known for my physique, rather the lack of it and would not consider strength to be one of my main assets. As a consequence, I had never thought that I could lift a fully grown woman in a graceful manner and return her to the ground afterwards without the aid of a crane, a truss or both! But I did (cheers, cheers) and entirely unassisted by the aforementioned aids. Mind you, my thighs were killing me for the next couple of days.