Goodbye Christopher Robin

The charm of AA Milne's Winnie The Pooh has always been lost on me; as a child I was more a Beatrix Potter kind of gal, and so some of the rather " magic" nature of how Milne bonded with his son over a child's fantasy life of stuffed animals, a red letter moment which led to the publication of a franchise, was beyond me.
However Goodbye Christopher Robin is not just, as what I expect is a rather overblown story of how Pooh was written. It is a rather overblown story of just how poor little Christopher Robin survived a childhood, typical of so many 1920's children who had to cope with emotionally and physically distant parents who had battled through the horrors of WW1
Alan Milne ( Domhnall Gleeson) and his wife Daphne ( Margot Robbie) are not sympathetic characters. He is inconsistent and clearly uses the private moments with his son as fodder for fame,
whilst his wife is a brittle, but vivacious socialite who is quite capable of leaving husband and child
when it suits her but the audience sees them through modern eyes rather than from the perspective of the buttoned up upper classes of pre 1940 England and so it is very hard to identify and even understand them as the norm
Thank goodness for Kelly Mc Donald's emotionally warm Nanny Nou, for it is her arrival that saves the film from it's own dourness and gives it some heart. In the end I found myself more interested in her relationship with Christopher Robin ( Will Tilston) than the all too numerous , soft focus scenes when Milne , Christopher and a gaggle of stuffed toys " played" idyllically in the woods of rural Sussex..indeed.the moment where Nanny breaks down when she thinks the now adult Christopher Robin has died in battle ( a thing his parents were unable to do) literally broke my heart...and.only then did I realise that McDonald's character reminded me of my own grandmother, a person who provided me with all of the warmth and heart that was lacking in my own parenting.
6/10

Nanny Nou

Tiles

Give me a dying patient on a ventilator to look after!
It would be less stressful that discussing the right ceramic tile design for the kitchen with the Prof that's for sure!
In the end, after a somewhat lively time comparing one colour with another  , the Prof wandered off to the showroom exit with a wave of his hand and the words " YOU  pick!!!!!" 
it's been all too queeny! Very much like the judging from Strictly Come Dancing! 

I will leave you with a somewhat happier image
A rescued donkey " smiles" at his rescuers after being saved from a flooded river!
Have a peaceful weekend  readers

First Adventure

This beautiful photo was taken by my great niece Ellisha on a recent jaunt to Morocco. There is something rather ethereal about it I think.
Ellisha is an art student in London, and being slightly dippy certainly ticks the stereotype box of someone more grounded in colour and form and beauty rather than in the practicality of life.
Her and a friend hiked up the rural mountains of North Africa for instance without any cash for food or even sensible shoes.
The risk taking of youth eh?
The young people of today have a much global world in which to explore nowadays.
You even can track your kids on an mobile app , even if they are journeying the Amazon.
How fantastic is that

What was your first big adventure?

Mine was a first trip to London when I was 18. I went alone and somehow found a bed and breakfast before I went ( how did I do that without the internet?) I went to see Evita, ( which I hated) I walked everywhere because I was too scared to try the underground and my elder sister actually phoned the bed and breakfast's manager to see if I was ok on my first night in the big smoke!
Hardly a breathtaking new adventure, hardly rock' roll, but for a gauche Welsh teenager in 1980.
It was a big deal....

Like I said...what was your first big adventure?

Self Preservation

A dog fox trotted through the Ukrainian Village this afternoon. I saw him as I was gardening in the front garden. He circled Irene who was eating cheap white bread which was a gift from the neighbours. She stamped her feet angrily at him as he went by. 

In a shot the Bachelors appeared at the field gate, and within seconds they tottered noisily across the lane to the safety of the garden next door where they sat chattering on the low stone wall. 

It never fails to impress me just how clever peanut brained animals can be when self preservation is involved.

They stayed in the garden watching me prune the buddleia for an age, and two hours after they first arrived, I walked them back to the field, when the fox was long gone.

Boisterous Lesbians

The Prof didn't fly back until late last night, so I went to Theatre Clwyd to see Daisy Asquith's documentary Queerama. 

Queerama is a collage of fictional images, film clips, vintage television interviews and documentary snippets set to music. It sets out to portray the reality of gay life in Britain from the turn of the century but in my mind it failed, as the film seemed rather biased towards the negatives of the gay experience rather than the many, many positives. 

The film also seemed more concerned with the lesbian perspective, a fact that was perhaps reflected in the audience which comprised of three small groups of  women.

I was the only man in the cinema, sat in my usual seat D13!

One couple and a group of three were particularly animated and chatted throughout the first part of the film regardless of anyone. 

I got several hostile stares when I shushed them but the chatting did stop.

Some of scenes of the movie, especially the 1960s documentary scenes where a pompous lady consultant psychiatrist declared to camera that homosexuality was due to " damage in childhood" were particularly ironic.but without the balance of the positives of gay culture both from times gone by and from the past decade the whole movie fell a little flat to me.

I walked out before the film finished, and the lesbians who I had shushed muttered at me when I passed them. 

I'm sure they called me a homophobe!

If You Can't Beat Em.............

Foolishly I was drawn into a political conversation at 3.30am this morning.
I should have known better,as I hadn't even downed my first coffee of the day but my colleague, who is politically very active, pushed a button on a subject I feel passionately about.
My temper started to flare when I was told in no uncertain terms ( and rather patronisingly I thought) that I was wrong and that my colleague was right because he had read extensively on the matter.
Luckily for all I changed the subject before things got out of hand

My second upset of the day came when Albert followed our walk up the lane which necessitated me slowing down a speeding car in order for him to exit into the sheep field.
The driver wasn't best pleased with me and impatiently revved his engine as I stood there. Luckily Winnie was standing directly in front of the car like Buddha so he couldn't have pulled past me even if he had wanted to, so in the time it took Albert to reach the field pull in , I had already been called an " f€#king animal freak" by the driver , something I replied to with my best gay wave.

What's wrong with people ? I thought.
A statement I repeated to myself just a hour or so later when I bumped into a nurse friend of mine in the book row of Tescos. We chatted for an age before an untidy Irish woman yelled at both of us for being in her way" Get out of my way! " she snapped angrily  " look at you chatting up that girl and laughing! It's a bloody supermarket not a social club, you shop here not talk!" 
Obviously this had been brewing for a while, and me calling her " a crabby old cow" didn't really help matters greatly, although her surprise at the statement was some vindication for the spat.

As luck would have it I spied the same woman as I stood at the check out of Boots-The Chemist a half hour later. " I can't believe that you called me an old cow, you awful man!!!!" she started up again
I almost went for my usual " Cheap Shoes" put down , but the woman was wearing old lady booties so instead I replied with and equally loud "In fact  I called you a CRABBY old cow if you are going to quote me get it right" much to the surprise of the other women in the queue.

" I'm surrounded by idiots" I said to no one in particular when I handed over my dehumidifier tablets to be scanned

"Welcome to the world of retail" said the cashier wearily

Simple Gifts from An Appalachian Spring

Strange! 

Yesterday I was in Ikea, 

Today The Prof is in Sweden 

Go figure.

I listened to this piece of music today and I was surprised to hear it's title as I always though it was the childhood hymn Lord Of The Dance. The hymn was actually written in 1963 by Sydney Carter and the Aaron Copland piece is a version of an American Quaker Hymn not related to dancing.

Lord Of The Dance will be played at my funeral.
I used to sing it as a small child whilst skipping around untidily in a circle in front of my family.
Now they'd call it child abuse

Why?

Ok. I'm doing what millions of people seem to do on social media. I will show you a photo of my complementary cake and coffee at Ikea. My kitchen designer man is running late  ( hence the bribe) and I am already stressed at walking two miles around the store to find the right department.
The couple at the next table are having a fantastic row , he is saying to her " if you bring me here again I shall divorce You!" I SHOT HIM A supportive smile.
Hey ho