Roger knocked my wireless headphones into the dogs/ cat’s water bowl this morning
Fuck
Not Saying What You Want ( Prada Spoilers)
One of the themes running through The Devil Wears Prada 2 was that most of the characters were never quite able to say what they wanted. Miranda couldn’t share her thanks and admiration for second in command Nigel, who in turn could not ask his boss for what he wanted, ie recognition and promotion. and Emily wanted Andrea’s friendship but backed off from asking for it, even though she was desperate for contact and affection.
On my counselling days I often see this in therapy. The unsaid, the not asked for, the I’m not worthy, the fear of rejection.
I’ve seen it in my own life, and in the life of others close to me, in fact it’s a central theme to one of my most favourite film scenes….the ferry scene in My Best Friend’s Wedding
I’ve done it today , and feel better for it, even though the outcome wasn’t the best 🌈❤️
Hey ho
I’m relaxing watching Andre Rieu on tv ….a beer in hand , Roger is playing with Bun and Weaver upstairs
God only knows how that happened ….they are racing around like lunatics
Mary is on my knee
A Rather Nice Arse
Cerulean Blue ( spoilers)
The Devil Wears Prada 2 ( I hate the title) works only because all four of the original cast have returned to their original roles….its a clever reworking of the original with Hathaway in sudden need of a Runway job, 20 years after magazines have been made redundant and the internet is king. Miranda ( Streep) remains iconic in her role .Stanley Tucci remains pleasing as her 2nd in command and Anne Hathaway remains the fresh new girl trying to make the best of things , Emily Blunt ( now head of New York Dior ) has all the scene stealing lines and has proved herself a talented comedienne and the subtle non saccharine moments as all four bond in their own ways is so incredibly moving to watch , especially when Nigel finally said to Andy “ you’re forever my girl “ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
It was lovely to go with my two sisters who missed the cinematic Easter eggs
The constant cerulean references to Streep’s iconic speech in the first movie were great fun to pick out and on the way home , we all laughed long and hard as Janet realised that she was actually looking for chocolate Easter eggs in the narrative …duh
Golders Green
Near to the hospice there is a holiday complex used by the Jewish Community. I’m presuming the clientele are from communities within urban areas of the Uk and its a common site to see visitors walking around in traditional dress. The men in their tzitzit vests and black fedora type hats , the women , in long skirts , their hair covered in scarfs, the children with buckets and spades and bags of beach toys.
I was driving into the hospice entrance when a family group stopped to let me enter, I waved them on with a big smile, making sure I looked welcoming and friendly given the recent news in Golders Green and the family moved on with the father eying me suspiciously.
How awful must it to feel threatened in your own country? To be mistrustful of a friendly smile which could be a mask of some sort of a preemptive attack. A stabbing, a car road rage incident, a bombing?
As the father looked at me, unsmiling and hostile, I tried to acknowledge his feelings by another smile and a nod
If I hear antisemitism I will call it out. If I see it, I will call it out
We all need to .
Hey ho……it’s going to be a restful day and a nice week
No more hospice shifts until next Saturday.
Lots of catch ups with friends on video this weekend.
Touching base with old chums😀
I’m drinking coffee at the kitchen table now , the sparrows that bicker like schoolboys in the honeysuckle have moved to the back garden because Weaver is sat watching them from the open lounge window.
Bun is asleep with Mary on the kitchen reading chair and the coffee is good.
I don’t know where Roger is, sometimes he sits by the gate with his nose poked through the bars, waiting to catch the eye of passing walkers.
I’ve only yelled at the yappy dogs next door twice this morning ! A record
I’m meeting both sisters for. The Prada sequel later
Return
Overnight the Montana has flowered over the secret garden gate of my back garden, it always looks a picture. The clematis like the bluebells and white bells in the garden borders are friends who reappear every year, as do the black tulips by the gravel path and the mock orange by Finlay’s grave.
The ribus bush is tinged red with flowers and the honeysuckle is already densely green around the front door, shielding the sparrows who are planning to nest there.
Every year the flowers and shrubs return
And every year I am grateful
Colours Of Time
I think I’ve seen the best film of 2026 so far, and it’s a charming bit of French whimsy set in the present day and glorious 1890’s Paris
Four strangers, distant cousins, are united by the fact that they and a dozen other family members have inherited a rundown country cottage earmarked to become a trendy new shopping mall.
Benign beekeeper Guy( Vincent Mccaigne) galvanises sad executive Celine ( Julia Piaton), retiring schoolteacher Abdelkrim( Zindine Soualem) and on line artist Seb ( Abraham Walpler) into studying their family tree, mainly concentrating on 21 year old Adele ( Suzanne Lindon) and her journey to Paris to find her mother.
Here the film gently dovetails from the family bonding of the cousins ( beautifully observed and never saccharine in its portrayal ) to Adele’s journey of discovery, where she meets her mother and ultimately her father under the strangest of circumstances.
Every character is underplayed beautifully with Lindon and Piaton being especially impressive, and the climatic scene involving psychedelic drug taking, and Victor Hugo, has to be seen to be believed.
I loved it
A beautiful, well crafted and charming film, about family ties, growing up and history
Go and see it
Serendipity
I love a story of coincidence.
Around 32 years ago I found myself on a specialist six month work course at the Spinal Injury Unit in Southport. It was expected that for part of that course, I was to organise an elective placement somewhere interesting and after weeks of organising I was lucky enough to wangle work experience in the USA Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to be precise. Much of my experience centred upon the spinal injury rehabilitation hospital in Harmarville.
Like many rehab facilities, Harmarville was located out in the sticks, so to get to and from my lodgings which were back in the City, I was provided with a volunteer driver, who happened to be a very elderly black guy called Norm. Norm insisted that I sit in the back of his large black car, and so I( and many others) was reminded of the movie Driving Miss Daisy when we turned up at any event. The film had only just opened in cinemas the previous summer.
Anyhow I digress.
Fast forward a decade or so to rural Lincolnshire, to an antiques emporium at a former RAF station to be precise. In a dusty, junk filled room, I spied an old map with art deco writing in a battered frame and on a whim bought it. It looked American, in period with the look of our former house , and it filled a spot in the hall.
The map travelled with us to Trelawnyd and until recently it has graced the wall on the upstairs landing, more or less unseen by all.
You may recall that fairly recently I painted the living room, hallway and landing, and after this, I rearranged the paintings in the cottage and moved the map to it's present position in the spare bedroom.
There , I looked at it again with fresh eyes.
The map, I noticed , had small illustrations on it. A golfer in plus fours, a hunting hound, a whole series of huntsmen and women in full livery, and written in the right hand margin in faint deco script was the name Harmarville.
I looked closer, and spied a road called Fox Chapel Road and I suddenly recognised where the map was of. Of all of the places in the world that a 1930s map could have been from, I had bought an old map of the very place I had worked three decades before!
The map was of one very small far suburb of the city of Pittsburgh. A suburb where the Harmarville Rehab unit was to be built some fifty years later.
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