Early morning long walk with dogs,
Off to work.
I’m working in the community for the next three days to cover
Lots of MacDonald’s coffee before work
And hill starts in the Welsh Countryside
A Man Called Otto
Saturday night,
A night in
Feeling a bit blue
I dug out this little gem to watch on the couch, covered in dogs
The delightful Mariana Trevinô
Hollywood seldom remakes foreign language films that well
It’s as though popularity automatically means success so let’s not work too hard in the translation .
A Man Called Otto is based on the Swedish hit A Man Called Ove,which is a story of a suicidal man who is encouraged to start living again by the interaction of friends and neighbours of his neighbourhood association . This was a gentle and amusing film with a big heart thanks to Rolf Lassgård, it’s leading man and the remake is amusing and warm too, but not thanks to its lead Tom Hanks , who remains slightly miss cast.
In Otto, the Hank’s character is one most of us know in one way or another. He’s a man of policy and process, a man who fights against injustice and the faceless corporations . He is a stickler for rules, is grouchy, mistrusted by neighbours and irritatingly bad tempered but when a Mexican family move in opposite , the garrulous, opinionated, heavily pregnant and big hearted mother Marisol ( a delightful Mariana Trevinò) slowly wins him over making him realising that suicide isn’t the answer to his long term depression.
Hanks as Otto and the wonderfully inept Manuel Garcia-Rulfo as Marisol’s husband Tommy
Mariana Trevinô is the real heart of this movie, cumbersome and shrill yet exuding bucketfuls of affection and warmth , she is more than a match for Otto’s depression , literally pulling him back into the land of the living with some beautifully judged one liners and a genuinely infectious and tearful smile.
It’s a lovely, gentle film that says a great deal about community and love and genuine affection.
Want to feel good?
Watch it
My Marisol? There’s been a few
Trefor
I picked Trefor up around 10 am.
He’d forgotten I was coming but with a bit of mild panic , he donned a coat, and found his slippers and got into Bluebell with the minimum of supervision.
He’s 99 and looks well.
I brought him up to the TCA Coffee Morning where he could mix with the other grey hairs ( including myself) and chat….he did just that until lunchtime.
The coffee morning was full with a good sixty to seventy people there.
On the way back to his residential home he asked me about my work and college and told me of his days as an electronics technician for the civilian RAF and we gossiped about a neighbour we both have little regard for like old ladies so often do when they are feeling a bit snide.
“ Do you ever hear from your husband ? “ he asked me suddenly as we stopped the car and I told him “ No , not any more”
He patted my hand with his and smiled
“ You deserve a lot better” he said in his sing song Welsh accent
And raised his walking stick in a gesture of farewell
Dressing up
This morning I met Chic Eleanor for a walk and breakfast and wore a new shirt to mark the occasion.
She noticed it too, as she has a want to notice everything and made a fuss accordingly
“Darling, I’m loving the LOOK !”she called out kissing me three times on the cheeks
And I preened with embarrassment.
It was lovely to catch up with her this morning.
Sometimes my blog comments are more entertaining than the blog entries themselves.
Yesterday’s telling off from the troll is one example ….priceless
The Daffodils of Sheffield
Small hangover this morning.
Not a huge one…..I don’t do them any more, but one big enough to warrant my best filter coffee and not a coffee bag this morning.
When I was a singleton in Sheffield I was a big drinker.
Thursday nights were always “ Nurse” nights at The Ledmill where taxies home were only a fiver and cheesy chips could still be bought on Hillsborough corner before locking up.
Monday night was always a pub quiz in Walkley. Then Walkley was a cross between an up-and-coming and a down-in-heel residential village perched on one of Sheffield’s seven hills.
It was full of terraced houses, mostly filled by nurses and University Staff who couldn’t afford Crooks and Broomhill and often on my drunken walks home to Hillsborough , down in the valley, I would help myself to flowers growing in the tiny front gardens, no bigger than an average coffin.
( as you may realise my relationship with cut flowers stems many years)
One day, after a rather heavy lock in post quiz , I remember waking up to hundreds of daffodils , all crammed in a plethora of containers , cups, vases, saucepans, milk bottles, The KETTLE !
There were hundreds of them all over the house
Several hundred in fact……
And perched, pride of place, inside my Charlotte Rhead vase was a single, and obviously much prized, black tulip
God knows where I got that from
Hic
The last time I went to Linda & Nick’s lovely cosy cottage for an unofficial TCA (Trelawnyd Community Association) catch up I turned into Helen Keller by 10 pm and had to feel my way home, given the amount of gin I consumed.
Tonight I was better behaved but still had a small stagger when I slid into Well Street after dark.
Linda’s argument is that we do our best brainstorming after a gin and bitter lemon.
And fellow trustees Bridget and I couldn’t disagree with her.
The object of our conversation was centred about the Christmas Fayre and I was quite proud of my suggestion of getting the school children to make a lantern each in school to parade to the pond with their parents and other villagers to leave the lanterns there ready for a pond open day the next week.
Before my third gin, we had dispensed with official brainstorming and just sat around their kitchen table gossiping and laughing .
It was nice to hear about Boffin Cameron having a new girlfriend ( amongst other stories), and how good the food swap was doing in the telephone kiosk.
That’s the only bit of gossip I can share here, lol.
I love going around to Linda and Nick’s for they, like Bridget and the other members of the TCA are bright, caring people who value their community, and who do that caring with a smile and with good nature.
Hic
It took me an age to find my front door keyhole in the dark when I got home
Potting up
I drove to Llandudno with the leaving cards for two staff nurses. I get a little irritated by the usual practice of a sad envelope left on the side of a noticeboard which is often filled by the flotsam of change in pockets and purses. I favour a proper collection with someone “ in charge”
And so I’ve had to put my money where my mouth is .
And I’ve collected the monies personally.
I stopped on the way home and had a coffee at Parisella’s new cafe but didn’t stop long as the place was descended upon by four sets of helicopter parents and a gaggle of Toby’s and Lilly’s
The children were fine, but the noise from the parents as they frantically ran around “ organising juices” and seeing if little Archie wanted a panini ! was dreadful.
This afternoon, I’ve spent most of my day repotting Chinese Money Plants
Informal catch up TCA meeting tonight at the velvet voiced Linda’s
She’ll have the gin cooled
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Wat's funny about stealing? Those people will have worked hard for the money to buy bulbs and some scrote steals them.
Delete