Thursday morning, after the housework I joined my Father watching a dramatised recreation of Custer’s last stand, which was supposed to be historically accurate.
As there were no survivors, it is not surprising that so many inaccuracies abound about that event in the history of the plains. Yet, having read as much as he has, I’d believe my Father easily, when he told me, that as few as six warriors scared him off from the village of women and children he was about to attack, to take hostages; or that Custer was one of the first killed, which was certainly not shown.
The documentary may have been one of the first we’ve seen that hadn’t portrayed the plains Indians as demons, but it was still historically inaccurate: so we’d both laughed at his bad it’s grown over time. Though one has to wonder at what version of history will be taught our children in the future and, where does the truth lie in that?
Then later, as I slowly readied to go out to go to the project, I decided to water the lawns, as I’ve done of late: it’s been the driest April in many years.
Needless to say, before I’d finished doing as I had been, it began to rain, a kind of light drizzle, which turned into proper, ‘wet the concrete’ rain, within the hour, just in time to get me wet
Dad and I were working in the garden, most of Tuesday. For me, a pleasant diversion from the crappy time I had at the dole, in the morning.
In the evening I watched my tv shows with Mike, then later I watched ‘Crow 4: Wicked prayer’ which I’d been waiting ages to see, just for David Boreanz and boy, did I get to see the film I wanted.
Wednesday found Dad and I at the one-stop shop after yet another interruption from my Dad’s my Sheila and Tillie the dog and the work I’ve been doing on the Afghan book got set aside awhile; then, after a ‘debate’, filling in the requisite forms needed to get some pennies back, for him. Then it was back home and the garden, before toddling off for a well needed walk.
The end of Friday night found me sitting on the sheepskin, as ‘Day Of The Triffids’ Part 2’ on the Dell, as I typed away on the Easy One.
[An having read the book, several times, Dougray Scott makes a convincing Bill Mason and Joey Richardson was a damn good Josella.]
The day had started with me feeling tired, which wasn’t such a surprise, as Thursday had been such a busy night on the door, as my aching body attested to the next day, as it were.
I’d been up, to look good but casual, as I joined my Father shopping at the Azda. And yes, as usual, the lights were against my Father as he drove: it almost always happens, when he drives.
And when we got there, we worked the aisles with the system we’ve adopted. It seems shopping there has become a kind of bonding thing.
There had been one brunette in boots and eighties hair who I saw the other week; and as Dad and I were at the checkout, with Dad packing the bags, with military precision, I saw the sexy [to me] psycho bunny, who had played games with my head, much like those the second ex did. I had seen her from the corner of my eyes. But, after she had gone all the way round the aisle, to walk before me; I ignored her once, and then, she repeated the action. I turned back, to help Dad.
Did have one bit of good fortune, or the possibility of it. I went ‘walkies’ to the One-Stop’ shop in Eastham, to ask a question of them, for Dad. And, it seems that though Ma’s death has affected us financially, he may, if the system allows, get twenty five percent off his council tax, as I’m unemployed. Hmmm, I’m not holding my breath.
Mike called down in the evening and we watched episode thirteen of series two of Dollhouse,’ which had been all that I’d expected and, more, so much more.
Heck, it even had Summer Glau in it, she of teenage Terminator fame… [Drool.]
Wednesday afternoon had progressed much as the morning had gone, with one thing, just one thing nearly spoiling the rest. I’d got my injection, then things went awry, as the ‘script that had been faxed over from the hospital for me had’t been signed.
Thereby lay a problem and so, I’d waited; thus throwing out the window what I’d planned next. Ergo, ‘a whiskey was called for,’ I thought.
So, with pen and paper and, my headset playing favourite sounds, I’d carried on with the next part of the plan: ‘twas a visit to Pete ‘n Vicky and, boy does she sound pleased about heir prospective marriage.
Anyway’s, needless to say, I missed my bus, so walked from Wallasey to Birkenhead; and, I’d got home, at about nine, as I’d told my Father I would.
I pissed off with Anchor Housing, whose recruitment office don't work efficiently; and aching a little, but its sunny and I have sounds to accomany my walk to get an injection.
Sitting cross-legged on my armchair, keyboard perched on my knees: An ‘American Pie’ plays as my brain ripples with mirth at what Mike had done for me. He had recorded the rest of the re-imagined Prisoner for me, which he put on the 4gb USB for me. On it is part 2. A whole part 2: while parts one and two were transmitted together, which i also have, on disc.
We’d been watching the tv earlier and I was watchin the news and Clegg and Brown and Cameron sittin by the fire warming my hands, while Dad sat I his armchair: and I looked at Dad and said, “It’s all about parties. There shouldn’t be a party; they should be working together…”
[At a time of national crisis, should that not be something we say and expect of them??]
COMMENTS
You said a mouthful...true democracy has been dead for generations. Of course why should they listen to the masses?
I was up early Monday and my Father gave me a lift to the hospital, to see a doctor about my sinus, which I’ve been waiting for twenty year Now: so I had gone to bed early Sunday night.
A small camera and light had gone up each nostril, before the fellow had come to a decision.
It seems I am to use a steroid spray on the inside of my nose, to relieve the symptoms of sinusitis that I get twice a year.
The walk home was good though…
It's a sunny Sunday and I'm just out of the bath and, wandering around in my robe, getting ready to go seeking teevee shows and a whiskey.
I went out onna sunny Saturday, to get a pen. Turns out the one I’ve been using for my discs is a dry wipe & I only realised when I wiped a few titles off.
It was pleasant weather, so again, no hat; bit goat, but no hat. I needed the pockets.
‘An while I was out, I wondered at my sci-fi evening. Well, ‘Doctor Who’ was good, ‘n there’s no two ways out it, Matt Smith works; and as to Karen Gillan as his assistant. She is definitely one of the best assistants I’ve seen. I even quite liked the new darker Daleks. And then, ‘an then there was the first episode of the re-imagining of ‘The Prisoner’, which I’ll admit Now, I wanted to hate, as the original was a favourite of mine. But, it was quite good and Jim Caviezel was good as Number Six: and Ian McKellen was superb, as ever. So thankfully, they have not done a ‘Merlin’, or ‘Robin Hood’ on it, in my opinion.
The weather was good as I went to pick up my Father’s script; and in lieu of the news I’d had the other day about my blood pressure, I went directly to the reception of our local practice, spotting the blonde buxom one, who doesn’t always jive well with me.
“Thank you, for sending me to the walk-in centre,” I pronounced warmly.
Smiling the widest of smiling, I think I disarmed her wonderfully.
“Erm yes, we have been told that,” she had said, finding her mettle; and back to the form I expected, standing looking stern looking as ever. Yet, she smiled.
“I learnt I have low blood pressure,” I’d moaned, telling her of the visit I’d had.
That had been when I’d learnt, with her help, how to use a machine ‘that does it for you.’
That’d been interesting; as was the slow walk on a sunny day, without my hat, headphones on as the tape played ‘The Boss.’
Then there was Azda, and the fact that Debbie Shrewsbury Gee, she of memories of being sixteen and, how good she always looked in denim, with her long legs and two kittens in basket squirming type buttocks; that a fella drools over.
And, this Friday, after all the games she’s played with my head every Friday, when I’m out with my Dad, she wasn’t there. Whether she was on holiday, changed shift, or whatever, she wasn’t there. And, for a moment, just a moment, I missed it.
At home later, I watched ‘Bad Taste;’ which is as it sounds, an as the first movie mad by Peter Jackson and ‘Lord Of The Rings’ and ‘King King’, fame; and ‘Riverworld Part 1’, a good telling of a story I’d been told of.
Each were darn good distraction, from the awareness of the sliver of new moon that penetrated the star littered pitch-black sky: and what it’s arrival might mean to the effect of the nine-year spiral.
.. with a glove on, on a sunny day, I can still goto voluntary work, so I'll soon be forgetting what MyArmyMyLife did.
COMMENTS
wow, i didn't know you could erase comments?
hope you mind wanders into something better.
meaning i hope your luck gets better.
I woke on a Sunny Thursday to a radio report announcing that John Lennon airport, like the rest of the airports in England hat I heard of, was closed to air-traffic.
It seemed that a volcano erupting in Iceland had sent a cloud of ash our way: on a day when my Father had decided that he’d wash my bedding.
And, as flights were cancelled and I sat proof-reading a story for someone, my Father got on with the housework, after I’d done my end of the job.
At one point, as I neared the end of what I was working on, I got a call, “Will you help?” Well, as he rarely asks, I moved quickly.
It seems a roller-wheel had come of the end of the hose attached to the vacuum much to my Father’s annoyance: and, it could’ve been anywhere.
“Just something else!” He’d exclaimed at one point; and I can’t blame him. Anyway, the wheel did turn up, after twenty minutes or so. They’d been in his pocket. And then the house keys were lost.
There’s been so much stuff being going on that at time, it just seems like one little thing after another, thumb, virus, wheel, keys and ‘the rest.’
Wednesday morning I woke after very bad nights sleep with my thumb twice its size and, where the cut was, had been leaking a colour that hardly belonged to be either there, or the colour it was. It had been quite disconcerting to say the very least.
Unable to move a leaking thumb, I’d been concerned enough to phone the doctor’s, although in actuality, I should have gone to A & E
But, in my head, A & E at Arrowe Park is where little old ladies [like my Mother] go to die, so I’d phoned the doctor’s, only to find there was nothing available.
Yet the receptionist had suggested something: the walk-in centre at Eastham, which is where I took my thumb, in time to be there for when they opened up to walk-in services.
Considering how nervous I’d been about having the leaky thing prodded, the nurse I’d seen had been both helpful and gently: and, after a blood pressure test, I learnt that mine is well low.
As I picked up my prescription of Flucloxacillin I asked the chemist if there was anything I could do to lower it, only to be told that it might be helpful if I took less Adalat, which I take for my Raynards.
Then, just as I was readying to go on VR, I found that my main PC had developed what acted like a virus, or could have been malaware. Either way, the symptoms had replicated Windows Defender announcing a serious problem.
In frustration, I’d gone to bed.
.. damn, I sent that last message with a typo. It was a slip of the thumb, which I foolishly sliced. It makes it friggin difficult to roll a joint.
.. but, I have watched stargate universe and 'V' and had a good rant on VR.
.. and tho I know they will win: I will have the satisfaction of knowing that.. yes, well that's tomorrow.
Whilst prices are going up here there and everywhere, I got a letter through telling me that come April the 14th my benefit will go up one pound fifteen pence.
To my memory, that’s less than the last rise, ‘Ah well, what do I expect?’
Anyways: The AquaSeal people, who do roof’s, have done well out of my end of Brookhurst Road. The fella over the road got his roof done, then next door.
So on the grounds that he was doing something for me, in the future, so I wouldn’t have to go up on the roof like he has, Father decided to get ours treated like theirs.
“They’ll phone about nine to let you know they’re coming within the hour,” he’d told me. Well, as it happens, they rang about eight o’clock. Needless to say, he didn’t hear the bell, but I had.
Well, the fact that they were due wouldn’t disrupt our routine, so come nine, we carried on with the housework, as usual.
As he was using the vacuum, the hose on the end broke. Dad was incensed, as it was yet another in the list of things that has gone wrong since Mum died, as he sees it.
Then, come ten to ten and I sat typing, as the compressor sound outside my window, as they began cleaning the roof.
A short while later, as Dad went to the garage, to look for bits to fix the vacuum cleaner. I had looked out the back window, to say something or other to him and, that’s when he had pointed out the burst of light colour on the patio, next to the top of the drive. It’d been one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen: red and blue. And, we’ve not seen any butterflies around, for quite some years.
As it was, my Father told me, “It was just coming out. If I’d not gone in there, it’d never got out.” It goes without saying; when I lined up my camera, to take a shot of it, the butterfly flew away, somewhat erratically; it being its first true flight.
Went a walk from Physio, having been told they can’t do anything for the knee as such. “It’s arthritis,” says she, as if that explained it all; “it’s just a matter of doing the exercises and getting your glut’s stronger.”
At which point, I’d asked, “What are glut’s?” After all, the arthritis I know about.
The walk home was good, with a light wind; a blue sky and I took photographs on the way: the only pity being the litter I saw amongst the flora and fauna, as I travelled.
Needless to say, other than the local phone-box, which I want ‘them’ to get working again, I now want to try and get those woods cleared of litter, somehow.
I went to the shops, calling on Mikes on the way. We chatted awhile and I sorted something or other out on the laptop; then had returned home, after several hours and light rain, with the eggs and Radio Times I’d left the house for.
In the evening I introduced Mike to a film I recalled well, yet made out I didn’t, ‘Reign of Fire’, And, I’ll swear down, I still cannot understand why!
I knew I would have to be up early, so as to be alright for the walk to hospital.
I awoke Bank Holiday Monday, after a bad night, with every joint aching. So after doing the housework with Dad I went a walk, to teach them a lesson as it were, stretching each one as I did.
I called at Mikes and we talked of computers, films, anything and nothing; and, for the first time in days, I laughed. Odds being odds, something had to happen to balance things out. As it happens, it was a tooth, which worked loose and stabilised, just out of line with the rest at the front, with no pain thankfully.
So I walked home, to cook tea, stretching each muscle as I did; and, as I washed up, after the meal, the lid from the beans that tin had been lying in wait on the draining board, managed to get me. I nearly sliced off my right thumb, and into the back of my finger. Needless to say, after I’d written a little, I rested, which I really needed…
Bank Holiday Sunday saw me going to Karl’s on a sunny day.
“Why’d you go there?” Dad had asked, as I left.
Well, on this occasion, it had been in part to gain the episode of ‘Doctor Who’ I had missed taping, as I’d left the machine set to the wrong channel.
Come the evening we had watched the first part of the last ‘Frost’ story. As shabby and endearing as Columbo, this old-style policeman has graced our screens for over twenty years and, I’ll miss it.
Just before bed Dad had asked me, “Are you getting milk tomorrow?”
“Bank Holiday tomorrow,” I’d reminded him.
“Well, you got some on Friday…”
So, as he went back to the living-room, I called back, “See, that’s why we pay an extra 3p for doorstep delivery…”
I watched ten minutes of the new 'Doctor Who'. realised it would have a sad start & fell asleep taping it.. on the wrong channel.
Good Friday morning and the alarm went off at 8:30! Sheer lunacy, particularly after a night on the project. But, I live with a Pisces, so as we’d disturbed our routine by doing the Friday shopping on Thursday morning, there’d been housework to do, which meant tidying the back-room, that I’d left a mess, according to Dad.
Well, it was real sunny when I first got up and, started to tidy up, soon to be amused when for a change it was my Dad who had lost his glasses and not me. Needless to say, it was me who had lost them! And, although he found them I hadn’t been told. But, as I padded through for a coffee, I had noticed him wearing them, to my amusement.
And, after I did my tidying and dusting, I sat to write, only to be disturbed by Dad, holding a spool of nylon thread: “This got everywhere.”
By lunch-time the sun was gone and, the tingles had set into my fingers, again.
COMMENTS
-