The King's Speech

I'm not a film-goer, by which I mean that I don't go to the cinema. I used to, in fact I went most weeks when I was in my late teens as it was a good place to take my girl friend. (And I refuse to expand on that.) I can't remember when I last went to the cinema or what film I saw. It might even have been The Sound of Music, which just shows how long ago it must have been. There are very few films these days that seem sufficiently attractive to persuade me to break my habit. Even if there were one, the Old Bat's lack of mobility would make a cinema trip a little difficult with all the stairs involved. Just recently, though, there has been one film I would have liked to see: The King's Speech. And I watched it last night. The Old Bat bought me the DVD for my birthday last month (either way up, if you must know, which is bingo lingo for 69, so I am fast approaching my allotted three score and ten) and we watched that yesterday. I wasn't disappointed. I can't remember when two hours last passed so quickly (alright, if you want to split hairs it was 113 minutes) and I thought Colin Firth's performance was well-deserving of his Oscar.

Later...

As so often happens, I spoke too soon. Rain has arrived at last. Fortunately, it is not monsoon-type rain which would beat down the plants and run off fast but a steady rain, sometimes no more than a heavy drizzle, which can soak into the ground.

Wot, no rain?

That is a picture of the sky over the South Downs just to the north of Brighton and it was taken on Friday afternoon. It may seem strange to some, but that shade of blue is not the usual colour for an English sky. Our skies are either a pale blue or grey and cloudy. Even this year we have generally seen pale blue skies. I say "even this year" because the weather this year is so different from our norm. The south and east of the country is crying out for rain - at least, the farmers and keen gardeners are. It is becoming a little boring to keep reading in the paper that this is the warmest/driest/longest etc April/May/start to the year/spring etc since 1066/records began/1948/last year etc. Lawns have turned brown, crops are showing every sign of failing. Rivers are dry and fish are having to be rescued. The outlook for otters and kingfishers is said to be alarmingly poor and they are likely to die in large numbers.

The last time we had a really bad drought, the Prime Minister of the day appointed a Minister of Drought (or some such silly title) and immediately the heavens opened. So, come of, Dave! Appoint a Minister for Drought and let's get this over and done with!

(Despite all this, last Sunday was so cold that many people - including us - put their heating back on!)

Scenic Saturday - Tyne & Wear

Number 44 in the series.



We have now arrived in Geordie-land, inhabitants of the city of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne being known as Geordies. Tyne & Wear consists mainly of the cities of Newcastle and Sunderland and the surrounding towns such as Tyemouth, Jarrow and Gateshead.

Admiral Lod Collingwood, Nelson's second in command at the battle of Trafalgar, was a Tynemouth man and a monument to him was erected in the town in 1845.

(Picture by Ken Brown)

An apology

It's not the first time I've done it and it probably won't be the last, but I have left myself feeling red of face and very embarrassed. I seem to have lost what little ability I once had to string words together so that others who read them understand what I am trying to say. Perhaps if I had properly proof read yesterday's post I would not be feeling this way. What I had intended was a paean of praise for our beleaguered National Health Service but what I actually posted was a self-pitying whine. I do apologise for that but I am truly grateful for your kind thoughts and prayers.

In praise of the NHS

Our poor old National Health Service comes in for plenty of criticism - and, in many cases, deservedly so. I have been known to make uncomplimentary remarks myself, usually about the prevalence of highly-paid chiefs and the paucity of lower ranks. But I must also give praise when praise is due. This is one of those times.

I related a story about three weeks ago in which I mentioned that I went to the doctor because I had been suffering from a cough for about three or four weeks. He prescribed a course of antibiotics which I finished a couple of days before going to France for a week. The drugs had made not the slightest difference (though I should perhaps add that the old-fashioned remedy of hot honey and lemon juice does ease the cough) so on Tuesday - two days ago - I rang the surgery to make another appointment. This time I specified which doctors I was prepared to see and was surprised to be offered a choice of two appointments that very morning. He took my temperature, measured my oxygen level and listened to my chest. He found nothing out of the ordinary and decided an x-ray would be needed. If I opted to travel to Hove Polyclinic, I could visit their walk-in x-ray department any time between 9.00am and 4.00pm. I would have to wait for an appointment at the Royal Sussex County Hospital. Parking at the RSCH costs an arm and a leg (and often an hour's wait for a space) whereas it is free at Hove. Guess which I chose! The doctor suggested I telephone in two weeks' time to learn the results of the x-ray.

At Hove, I waited no more than five minutes before I was ushered into the x-ray room and just as quickly back out, all done. I was told to ring my GP in ten days.

That was Tuesday morning. At about 6.15 that evening I answered the phone. It was the doctor. Although he had not seen the x-rays, a report had been faxed to him. My heart and left lung appeared fine, but there was something at the top of the right lung which had not been identified. The GP wanted my to see a respiratory consultant who would probably order a CT scan (whatever that is). He - the GP - would write to the hospital and I should hear in about two weeks. As I said, that was Tuesday evening. Today, Thursday, I had a call from the hospital offering me an appointment for a CT scan at 9.45 next Tuesday with an appointment with a consultant later that morning.

Now that is service, service which I doubt could have been bettered if I had been prepared to pay through the nose for it. (Some would say I already have paid through the nose for it as I paid my National Insurance contributions all my working life.) Of course, the Old Bat is worried that the speed is indicative of the worst. Heck, I'm worried about that myself! But let's give the NHS its due: all those concerned are doing their level best to get this sorted as quickly as possible and I thank them all.

Gone yesterday, back today

The first lot of travellers/gypsies in Withdean Park may have been gone when I walked in the park yesterday morning, but another lot arrived last night! Back to phoning councillors etc in the hope of action.



I woke this morning feeling distinctly woozy and have come to the conclusion that I inadvertently took an overdose last night. I developed rheumatoid arthritis years ago but luckily I usually manage to keep it at bay by taking cod liver oil capsules and the Old Bat watches that I eat a suitable diet. Just occasionally I feel a twinge coming on and resort to taking anti-inflammatory drugs. This time, however, nothing seems to be making my shoulder mobile and pain-free. In an attempt to make sure I got a good night's sleep I took rather more pain killers than usual. They certainly zonked me out and I feel unwoozy again now so maybe I shall have to repeat the exercise tonight.