Hospital-acquired Insanity :(

Continuing our run of excellent luck, I found myself being ambulanced to Dorchester's Emergency Medical Unit on Tues a.m., following chest pains etc. After two sleepless nights in insane, oven-like, noisy wards , with so many needles stuck into me and copious drugs administered ( they woke me up at 3 a.m. to take blood !) .... ....I declined the angiogram planned for Thurs a.m. and escaped back to the real world. Many different drugs to take and on the waiting list for a non-invasive CAT scan of heart ( much better). They achieve much in E.M.U. I saw several 80+ yr old guys, who arrived in a terrible state, much improved in a few hours after tests and treatment. The nurses are on their knees, working 12 hour shifts. Met some really kind nurses/doctors and had long chats with old guys who had lived amazing lives. One guy sailing from port to port, all over the world, flying the flag for the empire in post-war 'Youth Service' . .aged just 14! Another guy left his home near Heathrow, still a teen, and went to Scotland to be a dairy farmer ! He told how living with the Blitz had given him a dreadful stutter and how the Scottish girl he married helped him to conquer it! I am happy to report that the hospital food was excellent and the system for linking it with patients . .quite remarkable! Upon discharge, one has to wait for a few hours in the discharge lounge whilst the pharmacy makes up drugs packs .... and somehow the food you ordered the previous day finds its way to you! When I got home, I was babbling like a loon for a while. I guess it was just a mild case of hospital-acquired insanity ;)

ON THE PASSING OF THATCHER . . . I've just heard former former Tory Party Deputy Chairman and ex jail-bird, Jeffrey Archer, on Sky News . . . quoting Shakespeare in elegiac praise of his former boss. I didn't catch it in it's entirety but it ended with " . . . unparalleled ". I assume that it was: " Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies A lass unparalleled." from 'Antony & Cleopatra'. " Unparalleled " in what way, one might ask? Well, she was certainly unparalleled when it came to the destruction of nationalised industries, the abandonment of 'One Nation' Conservatism, the brutal attacks on the miners and all unions, with the resultant rolling-back of workers' rights - and the introduction of 'paramilitary-style' policing, only previously seen in the South American dictatorships; turning the British police into State 'enforcers' and destroying, forever, the proud tradition of consensual policing in the U.K. Yes, all of that was unparalleled. Equally 'unparalleled' was her short-sightedness in selling off the nation's stock of Council Houses which has led, with logical inevitability, to the hated 'bedroom tax'. Yeah . .thanks for that one, Maggie ! Also 'unparalleled' was her hectoring & rather 'nannying' condescension; latterly combined with delusions of grandeur and her use of the Royal 'we', normally reserved for the Monarch. When she finally left office, after 12 long years, I felt a great sense of relief that she would no longer be appearing on T.V., 'telling us all off', the whole time ! I have friends who have always promised a 'Party' to celebrate Thatcher's passing. She has actually out-lived at least one of them, so I guess she has the last laugh on that score! Personally, I am completely disinterested in her passing and I shall not be wasting any of my time watching her totally uncalled-for 'State' funeral. I extend my sympathies, of course, to her family and to those who knew Lady Thatcher as a friend. She certainly was a 'mixed-bag' (no pun intended) but - at the very least - she was occasionally witty, she spoke engagingly at P.M.Q.s, and she looked and acted 'statesman-like', when representing us abroad; qualities I have yet to witness during 'Head Boy' Cameron's tenure at No. 10. In closing, perhaps I might proffer a rather different Shakesperian quote which comes to mind. " Proper deformity shows not in the fiend, so horrid as in woman. " - Shakespeare, King Lear. I don't wish to be unkind but let's just reflect on the 'whole' person, and the ripples she sent out into our nation, before 'spin' and 'sentimentality' irrevocably muddy the waters.

LIKE A DUCK ! ( read in Jim Carrey voice )

I was about to get out of bed, this a.m., when - still lying flat on my back - I decided to break wind . Whilst this was happening, I lifted my right leg and moved it across my body . . . in order to exit on the left side of the bed. This strange contortion caused my ass to 'quack like a duck' - a 'first', even for me :)

CREM' DE LA CREM'

Today we received a letter from the local Council, addressed to Ms S.Fretwell. We assumed it was for our daughter, who shares the same initial. When she came home from College & opened it, she discovered that it was an invite to a Memorial Service, in September. It didn't say whom it was for. It had the Crem's Tel No. , so I gave them a ring. Turns out it is a 'general' memorial service that they hold once a year. Anyone who has arranged a funeral in the last 12 months gets an invite. Wife, Sandra's, name was on file, cos we arranged her Aunt's funeral, on behalf of her absent Oz cousin', in March. They don't send to 'Mrs', so that's why it was just to 'Ms' I said that it was a nice idea, but I expressed the thought that maybe it should say on the invite, just 'who' the memorial was for - to avoid confusion. " We can't do that ! " replied the Crem' guy, quite impatiently, " It's not for ANYONE, in particular " Is it just me?

WHEN SUPERMAN RULED !

I don't know about you, but I reflect on my life a lot nowadays and I just think: " Wasn't that interesting " So many surprising and unusual things happen to all of us as we live-out our allotted term. When I was 10 or 11. . . we made friends with an A.A.F. family from Alconbury. Just 'that' was completely intriguing. The difference in the way they lived was extraordinary ! They took us on-base from time to time. The N.C.O.s club was like something from Vegas! Some crooner sang - " I left My Heart In San Fransisco", there were people playing on 'slots', mum drank 'sloe-gin fizz' in a tall glass. We had baked potato, steaks cooked over charcoal and corn on the cob. I'd never eaten corn-on-the-cob before. I burnt my mouth. There was also a gun-club . .with another bar . . and a huge PX stuffed-full of strange American food-stuffs. It was as if I'd walked into the world inhabited by Superman and the other weird characters in the comics I read. Unlike my experience of life up-until that point, it seemed that Americans were actually allowed to ENJOY themselves - NOT something which seemed to be allowed in the U.K. until the mid 60's ! Back home, they had microwave ovens . . way back then . . . and cars with fins on, like spaceships, with RED upholstery ! Wow! Heady days, indeed :]

TIGHTROPE WALKING

As I get older, I sometimes think of the newly qualified female French teacher I had when I was 17/18. There was a history of eye-cancer in her family and she seemed to me ( as a callow youth) to be totally obsessed by doom & gloom! I remember her saying to us, " You all see life as a long road, who's end is not even in sight. I see it as a tightrope, from which I could fall to my death at any time " Happily, so far as I know, she had no serious eye problems . . . she had a long and successful teaching career . . . and is now happily retired. For our own peace of mind, we all choose to forget that life IS a 'tightrope' and that any one of us might lose our footing, at any moment. As we get older we may sometimes experience this, first hand, when we are challenged by unexpected health problems. I'm confident and hopeful that - like my teacher - most of us will 'live long & prosper '. When we're ill, it's not a time to 'give-up' . . . but just to take a breather & regain our strength. Our interests, passions and beliefs, our partners, friends and contacts will, I'm sure, give us the focus we all need to quickly regain our 'balance' if we should occasionally lose our footing.

DAYS LIKE THIS

Do you have days like this? I had to go shopping, drawing-out cash and paying bills with wife, Sandra, in the p*ssing rain, this a.m. !! We started at Asda. When Sandra was just 3 items into her shop she turned to me with a baleful face and said, " This is RIDICULOUS . .everything's SO expensive. Let's go to Aldi ! " We replaced our three items and off we went. Sure enough . . . everything we'd had in our basket was 50% of the price, at Aldi. However . .and this is a BIG HOWEVER . . . . for some reason best known to themselves, Aldi had stopped selling de-caff instant coffee. Madness! I also wanted some pp3 batts for the smoke alarms . Went to the 99p shop expecting to get 3 or 4 for that money. NO . . bloody 'NO' ! They wanted 99p EACH ! So . . now even 'Pound Shop' is too expensive for me ( although I was amazed by a jar of large hot-dog saussies for 99p . . that ain't bad =p ) Back home, I checked the E-bay price. Just as I expected, I can buy Duracell PP3s for 80p a pop on there ( Unlike Boots The Chemist's £4.20 each !!! ) The High Street deserves to die. They are just taking the mickey. To cap it all off, we went to the town's main Post Office - they have a euthenasia booth for customers who just can't take it. Un-manned positions, snail's-pace queue, depressing ambience, you get the picture . . . And then . . . . the cost of posting an A4 card-backed envelope, u.k. address, 2nd class ? £1.10 !!!! How appallingly useless the whole British High Street experience is :( Reminds me of the Monty Python 'Cheese Shop' sketch ;/

Bouncing Is Good For The Sole

I put some unwanted Dr. Martens Air-Wair sandals up for sale on e-bay, recently. It reminded me of the first pair of d.m.'s I ever had, way back in'71.

I was to spend the summer vac's hitch-hiking for 6 weeks in Spain & Morocco with a pal from Spanish class. His mum could get us some boots cheap, so I was up for it. They turned-out to be the 'dubbined' greasy finish, so it took an age to convert them to the fashionable 'cherry reds', with ox-blood boot polish :/

Six weeks of pounding the roads of the continent with heavy packs on our backs, was followed by a gap year for me when I still wore them. On to Art college and, when my Adidas 3-stripe trainers gave up the ghost, it was back to the d.m.'s for the last two years. After college, I would think that I got at least another year out of then.

Those remarkable Air-Wair soles made walking a real pleasure.

That's all I have to say on d.m.'s. Sometime I'll tell you of the wonders of Timberland hand-stitched moccasins. Mmmmm . . .so comfy and never too hot :]

THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE !

I once discovered the meaning of existence, lying in bed after some excellent Tibetan dope. I couldn't find paper or writing implement so the secret was lost - although I think it was, basically, " I am the carpet, the stone, the bird . .we're all ONE ! " You try telling that to the d.h.s.s., to get extra benefits, and you soon realise the limits of enlightenment ;/

SOME ARE MORE EQUAL . . .

I once tried to blag my way into the V.I.P lounge at Heathrow airport.
The guy on the door said " But you're not a V.I.P."

Without a moments hesitation, I replied, " We're all V.I.P.'s . . No-one is more important than anyone else in this world ".

That made him chuckle. He let me down gently by saying,

" You wouldn't like it in there - it's dull and the people aren't very nice "

HEAVEN'S PETS

My wife's elderly Aunt Betty & Whitney Houston both died this weekend. If it's busy in Heaven, do you think they'll share a room?

Aunt Betty had the same first-name & birth date as Her Majesty the Queen. Things generally turn out better, if you ARE the Queen.

Somebody's deceased dog could, maybe, be their Heaven-pet? It'd be nice to have a dog in Heaven. You wouldn't have to buy any dog-biscuits . . but you could still go for walks.

R.I.P. Nan, Whitney and dog ;]

THE MIND WANDERS

I tell you this story because I think you might be able to empathise.

Last night, the my wife and daughter had gone upstairs to get ready for bed
(very long job in teenage daughter's case). It was about 11.30 p.m.

For some unfathomable reason ( possibly to amuse myself, whilst I waited for the bathroom to become free) I decided to sharpen a large chef's knife, on which I've been trying to get an edge.

I decided to try the 'butcher's steel' for this purpose. Somehow, I must've misjudged distances, because on the 5 or 6th downstroke I managed to pass the knife - with a firm slicing motion - across the top of my thumb.

Much blood and mopping with kitchen-towel. Quite deep, getting near half a cm; I pondered whether it needed stitches. It eventually stopped bleeding, I found some kiddie plasters with cartoon characters on ;] and watched t.v. for an hour to make sure that the wound had stopped bleeding.

My wife was first up this morning and was greeted by something resembling a war-zone, with blood-soaked tissues and plasters, scattered thither and yon'.

As I said to her, " I'm definitely getting an edge on that knife. I could have done that a week ago and it wouldn't even have cut me! " =D

Trouble is . . I can't bend my thumb for the next few day while the wound closes up. Can't play guitar ( world heaves sigh of relief ) and it may adversely affect my D.I.Y. productivity :(

Wife says, " What productivity? "

I say, " Ne'er mind. There's always a silver lining. I think I may finally have proven Einstein's theory of relativity - that, in certain circumstances, Time can actually go backwards!! "

C'est la vie :/

HOLIDAY DISCONNET - I MIGHT JOIN A CLUB

As we hit the middle of the seemingly never-ending Xmas/New years break, here's a thought I expressed to my wife, earlier today.

As is usual for us, over the holiday period, we haven't heard from ANYONE in several days. As I said to my wife:

" Now, I understand why people join clubs. If my bladder can last the length of the service, I might start attending church - JUST TO MAKE NEW FRIENDS ! "

It's a part of the human condition, I guess . We don't go out to work. Our daughter takes herself off to college and we are no-longer involved with other parents. Our own parents have all died. Many of our friends/workmates have died.

Our closest and most similarly-aged rellies, who lived in this town . .emigrated to Oz!

It's now 12 years since we moved half-way across the country. People gradually lose interest in, " Those jumped-up folks who moved away, somewheres. 'Thought the grass was greener etc, etc. TRAITORS! "

And, in a final irony, my wife's brother and family who used to live an hour & a half drive away ( part of our reason for moving here) . . have since moved half an hours drive from where we used to live!! . . .and their eldest boy ( one of our fave nephews) has recently married & moved to Toronto!! :s

Me . . join a club? Yep . . just post me the application forms.
Anything to the left of the K.K.K. . .and I'm your man ! =D

Medical Matters

I went see my doctor today. In-between discussing my minor ailment, we covered:

1. Whether sharks or jellyfish are the biggest threat to Ozzie & South African swimmers Doc said: 'Hippos bite people in half and they're not even in the sea.
2. The fact that the French like steak raw and the S.Africans want it burnt to a cinder.
3. Annoying people. I mentioned some S.Africans and some female Asian doctors who'd annoyed me.

And this was only a ten-minute appointment! Ya gotta love Dorset ;]

Cleaning Stew From The Ceiling

It happened like this:

It was about 4 p.m., already getting dark in post 'clock-turning-back' Britain. My wife was fussing about in the kitchen, cooking tea. I could hear her grumbling and cursing when she dropped stuff ( which is often).

All of a sudden, there was an almighty crash and much cursing. She'd done exactly what I did, about a year ago, when I scalded my hand. She'd taken the casserole out of the oven and put in on the gas hob - from whence it had slipped, distributing beef stew all over the floor and the cupboard fronts.

Luckily she didn't scald herself and the casserole dish didn't break. She's been in a funny mood for about a week, so i thought it best to herd her from the room & set about cleaning up.The first 'sweep' went fine . . just the gravy to mop up. I resolved to wash everything thoroughly and return to the stove. Beef stew is not to be wasted.

Having calmed down, my wife returned and helped with the cleaning. We thought we'd got everything ship-shape when we looked up and discovered that there was also stew all over the ceiling ! I went & got the steps and we soon had it sorted. Beef stew is still on the menu . . but we won't be telling our teenage daughter about some of the more unusual stages in its preparation.

So . . if someone were to ask - like a detective - exactly what I was doing on Oct 2nd at around 4p.m., I'd have no trouble at all with my alibi.

" Me, officer", I'd reply, " Why . . I was cleaning Stew from the ceiling, of course. "

Case closed ;]

Five Go Mad In Morocco !

Between school & University (Nottingham, where I lasted just 3 weeks!), I flew to Bilbao, Spain, with another student of Spanish. We were planning to hitch-hike around the country for 6 weeks. My dad was SO mean that I had just £60 to last 6 weeks!! This meant that for long periods my food was just bread & tomato sauce!!

Luckily, we met up with a group of young Brits with a hired Ford Transit van, just south of Madrid, and they took us with them to Morocco for ten days for just £20 each, all-in. The fact that my 'vistors passport' wasn't actually valid for Morocco was easily overcome by some sleight of hand with the Moroccan border-guard. However, on the way back out, there was a cholera epidemic in the south and the Spanish wouldn't let us & 3 irish girls into the Spanish Protectorate of Ceuta (in Nth. Africa).

The van simply had to return to England - so we two, plus the aforementioned 3 girls and an extra guy, were all stranded in no-mans land for a week, after having been given cholera shots in the most unhygienic conditions possible. Needles were used and then left in a fly-ridden tray of water, which was boiled before the needles were used again. Long haired hippies were also being forced to have their heads shaved before they were allowed into Morocco. No particular reason - just a bit of fun for the border guards.

Talking of drugs, whilst stranded we met a young German who'd been give a Mercedes to drive back to Germany, in-return for the promise of much cash. Unfortunately, the clutch went and he drove it onto the beach. His documents (Including driving-licence photo) were for a girl! He knew there were drugs hidden in the car but didn't know where. He was about to enter Algeciras, in Spain , which is one of the toughest drug-search customs posts in the whole world! We gave him a wide berth, so as not to be incriminated by association.

If we were in the cafe in no-man's-land, and the Moroccan Chief of Police came in for his (free) lunch, we were advised to leave. The fact that he laid his loaded revolver on the table before commencing was probably warning enough, to be honest.

After seven days, on the stroke of midnight, it was deemed that the innoculations would have taken effect and we were allowed into Spanish Ceuta. From there we took the ferry across to Algeciras, on the Spanish mainland, before splitting into groups of two in order to hitch-hike back to the U.K.

My friend and I almost fell at the final hurdle when we foolishly set up our tent underneath an electricity pylon, opposite the airport in Bilbao, the night before our departure. When the security guard asked why we were not on a campsite, I said that it was because we had no money.

Big mistake!! I had forgotten that Franco's Spain had very tough vagrancy laws. Anyone found with less than the equivalent of GB£20 on them could be thrown into jail for vagrancy. Luckily, my pal had richer parents than my own and his promise that he would lend me some of his cash was sufficient for me to avoid jail.

We got home, safely, with chestnut-brown suntans and hair bleached blonde by the sun. I had lost at least a stone in weight, and the sun had had such a health-giving effect on me that I hardly felt the cold, at all, that winter.

How on-earth we survived all of these mad adventures . . unscathed . . and with so little planning . . . will forever remain a mystery and stand as an enduring example, perhaps, of what can be achieved with 'youth' and pure, unadulterated 'dumb-luck' on your side.

Riots & Respect For Politicians

I think our politicians lost youngsters' respect when they were seen to be 'looting' their own expenses system, a while back.

After all, is there really so much difference between a teenager looting a pair of trainers and a politician claiming rent for a property he actually owns, or claiming mortgage-interest for a property where none actually exists . .etc, etc, etc ? Theft is still theft, isn't it ?

Also . . the London Mayor, the P.M. , the deputy P.M. and the Chancellor . . . ALL on hol's at the same time & seemingly in no rush to return. What impression does that give of their interest in the affairs of the country and the safety of its citizens ?

A statement from outside No.10, early on, might have done much to reassure the nation and to dissuade the rioters. As it was, I fear that they took the Government's seeming indifference as a green light for them to continue their rampage, with horrific and entirely predictable consequences.

" With great power comes great responsibility ", said Voltaire, quoting the ancient Greek Philosopher, Socrates. It is a very old adage that our political masters would do well to remember. To hold high office in Government is more than just a 'job', and sometimes personal considerations have to take second place to the security of the country and the safety of its citizens.

King Of Bullship

PERPETUAL MOTION MARINE PROPULSION (P.M.M.P.) is a novel invention whereby wind-energy is harnessed by the 'egg-whisk' rotor, mounted to the centre of a launch, and turned through ninety degrees (using a crown & pinion drive-system) to deliver rotational energy to a conventional propeller.

Once the vessel is moving, even in the absence of wind, the forward momentum of the launch provides sufficient energy to turn the rotor against the resistance of the air - thus delivering 'perpetual motion'.

In addition to this, the entire superstructure of the vessel is constructed from an innovative dual-skin technology. The outer surface contains photovoltaic cells, delivering electricity to charge thin, lithium-ion batteries which are contained within the inner skin. This stored energy is harnessed through ultra-efficient electric motors to provide extra thrust when at sea or for manoeuvering whilst in the marina.

The system was developed by Prof. James King, third Earl Of Snettisham and founder member of S.P.O.O.F. ( Scientists Providing Opportunities Of Fame) - a sort of T.V. talent show for nerdy inventors.

WHITTLING:

Professor King is a keen exponent of the traditional art of 'wood whittling' and it was whilst whittling that he had his revelation regarding the 'egg-whisk' drive. He says :

" Where others have gone wrong, is in their choice of materials. The first-choice material of 'metal' for gears is fraught with problems, especially as metals generally get softer as they get hotter. The gears in my 'egg-whisk' drive are made from organic olive-wood, a material which gets harder when heated. Additionally, I use only the finest virgin olive-oil as my lubricant. "

Such is Prof. King's love of whittling that he carries a personal supply of whittling wood with him at all times. He says:

" Wherever I am in the world, I always have wood when I awake in the morning "

We understand that, since giving this interview, prof King has sadly separated from his third wife, Sharon, due to 'Irreconcilable differences'.

BIOGRAPHY:

Prof King is the third male heir to occupy the family seat of 'Bullship Hall', which is situated nr. Booton, Norfolk, U.K. The King family made their fortune during the early 20th Century, when they shipped huge amounts of corned beef (bully beef), from Argentina, to the troops in W.W.1 in Europe. It was this fortune which built the family home, and from this undertaking is derived its somewhat unusual name.

I wrote a 'ten-minute lyric' & I like it :]

Sweet Tenderness © Stuart Fretwell 2011


It’s been a long time coming
As I’ve walked (down) this lonely road
It’s been a hard-times living
And I wish that I had known

How a hard man can crumble
When a sweet girl contemplates
How a proud man will deny her
And tell tales of those he hates

It’s been a long road, and a lonely way
To get to where I’m a’goin’
I still can’t believe the love you see
And I hope that I am showin ‘


Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .

Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .


It’s taken twenty years to get here
Took more to seal my fate
Didn’t know what it was, a-callin’ me
And I thought it was too late . . .

To change the mind of a ‘sickly’ child
And to mend a broken heart
Then I came across you
Now I know that it’s true . .
‘Cos you took my soul apart


Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .

Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .


Break:

What can a man believe-in,
When no-one else believes?
Where can a child place his trust
When they practise to deceive?

Oh, I don’t where the answers lie
Don’t know what’s the best . .
All I know’s I can’t live without
Your . . .Sweet tenderness

Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .

Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .


Conclusion:

And now I feel the sweetest grace
Of a heart that’s laid to rest
Travellin’ was my one desire
But I never found the best

So. . .

I’ve hung-up my boots
And I’ve settled-down
And I know that I am blessed

I’ll live-out my life
Right here, with you . . .
Just to feel your tenderness


Sweet Tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .

Sweet tenderness . . . whoah-oh . .


( repeat, to taste, whilst slowly fading-out :] )

I wrote a new lyric

California Girl © Stuart Fretwell 2011

Soft morning light
Throws shapes through my windows
Perfume, like blossom, on the air

Blue cat is yawning
He knows that it’s morning
And, soon, he’ll hear your sweet voice from the stair

Your soft, golden curls
Remind me of an Angel’s
Your breathing, so soft,
You’re not aware . . .

That soon you’ll be waking
(Your) dreams all forsaken
And your eyes will have that
Special kind of blue

Like Venus, from a painting,
You’ll rise from ocean-dreaming
And nothing-quite prepares me,
When you do

Transition:

You’re heaven-sent
You have a certain magic
And loving you’s a special kind of prayer

(But)~ Your love is lent
- You have no destination -
Like a bluebird, in a blossom-tree,
We’ll never know when you’ll be there

Chorus:

Oh, California girl
You blew-in with the autumn winds
And nothing I say will make you stay

When summer’s breeze starts blowin’
You’ll fly back to the ocean
But always, like a blessing,
You’ll be here, on my lips

You’ve filled me with your love
Like a gift from the Almighty,
But, darling, please believe me . .
I can’t ever let you go