That, you will have recognised immediately is the theme to Film Night because I have been to the pictures twice this week - oh the life I lead - and wanted to tell you about both of the movies because they are a bit off the beaten track. The Spirit of 45
This is a Ken Loach documentary about the creation of the Welfare State after the war. No, come back, it's really interesting. When people came back from the war in 1945, they were unwilling to return to the crippling poverty and systems that they had lived under before. So they ousted Churchill (fascinating footage of him being heckled at a rally) and voted in a Labour Government and began to change things. It isn't the most balanced thing I have ever seen. It completely ignores the way that the country was when Margaret Thatcher took over. Even I remember that you couldn't bury your dead or get your rubbish collected. Also how genuinely afraid people were of the power of the unions. This sometimes seems to suggest that she broke up a happy Socialist utopia just for the benefit of eight rich people in Mayfair and I don't think it was quite like that was it? However, there is a warning about the National Health Service and the the benefits we all enjoy. Should, I think be required viewing in all classrooms. A Late Quartet
You know, sometimes a film comes along and there are no lasers or time travel. No one gets their head sawn off or buries anyone alive. People just act. Really well. And they use that acting to tell you a story about people that is moving and makes you think and is uplifting. This is one of those films. One member of a quartet who have played together for twenty five years is diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. The film revolves around the way these people react to that. New York never looked more beautiful. Everyone is as cool as a cool thing on a very cool day and that's it really. It's enough. Highly recommended. Go away. Eat cake. Be reassured that the film industry is not ready to jump into the handcart to hell quite yet.
Was sad to hear this week of the death of Dallas Willard. Aside from being blessed with a super-dude name. "My name is Dallas. How Do You Do? Yes indeed it is a cool name isn't it? " He also has the rare distinction of being one of the few people who, when I have listened to them on my MP3, I actually leave on to listen to again. One piece is a sermon about Grace which he defined as "God acting in my life" I found this very challenging because it is not passive and means that God is part of my ongoing life and it demands a response from me. The second piece is just an opening prayer before he preached in which he used the line from God "You are perfectly safe with me." Sometimes when I walk to work felling a bit low or afraid, I play the prayer and remind myself of this. It does a girl good I can tell you. The bloke left a legacy. We had a visit from a couple from church this week as part of the membership process. They seemed very nice, if a little delicate for our house, and my first question, as usual was "Are you ok with dogs?" "Oh yes, of course we are." Cue Morecambe greeting visitors with bountiful love and joy.
Shultz
Nice people ."Is he a puppy?" "Er no - he is seven" "He has a lot energy - quite bouncy." (Said with slightly panicky smile) "We'll put him in the kitchen" Return to find nice man looking quite relieved and nice lady drawing heavily on her inhaler. It all went quite well after that. Watched this week Murder on the Home Front Set in the Second World War. Based on real diaries of a real pathologist's real assistant. Lots of attention to detail. What could possibly go wrong? Well, for me, everything really. Firstly, why do all the lady bodies in the morgue have to be stripped to the waist with their ning-nangs on show? Secondly, the pathologist is so far ahead of his time, he is practically from another dimension. Thirdly, more cliches in it than Shredded Wheat has roughage. Fully expect to see our plucky heroine (who, last week, got herself a job as a pathologist's typist and now finds herself at the centre of every crime scene in London) running through London in the middle of the night pursued by the bad guy. Reading this week Miss Read - Village School
Am not entirely sure if this is one of the loveliest books I have ever read or the most boring. Nothing has happened yet - at all - nothing. But the sense of time and place is captivating. Bits even remind me of my own ancient primary school in Salford but I would just like a little thing to happen I think. Just once. Doesn't have to be much.
..pottering. Head of House will be working all through the Bank Holiday weekend - doing his bit to keep the NHS on the straight and narrow. FOW2 is revising and recovering from a heavy cold so she is quite useless when it comes to entertaining me so I will be sorting myself out. I did resolve to use the time wisely and I have ironed all my Spring and Summer stuff so I am ready for the heatwave when it comes. I did get a little sidetracked by Doctor Who and my DVD of the Mentalist but that's to be expected at my time of life. Has anyone else been a bit disappointed by Doctor Who this season? I don't know if it's because there is yet another impossibly beautiful, swishy-haired assistant or the relentless "right-on-ness" (not a real word but you know what I mean) but I am finding the whole thing a bit annoying this series. It is probably my age but I am watching less and less telly. Saturday night is a wasteland. Britain's Got Talent is particularly disturbing. As I think I have probably droned on before about this before, just a couple of questions.
When did we decide that letting people with mental illnesses (which some of these people clearly have) and children, come onto a stage to be gawped at by an audience, while a "panel" make fun of them was an acceptable way to behave?
Exactly who decided that Alicia Dixon (whose name I only know because she blighted Strictly for couple of seasons) and a blond with artificial lips, would be the arbiters of TALENT ?
Do I feel like this because I am now very old?
Why am I asking you this? Why would you know?
I was reminded of my creeping old age this week when I had a lovely pot of tea out with a friend who left our church because they moved away. I was trying desperately to remember the name of the man from church who saw us about us becoming members. Try as I might, I just couldn't think of it. Me He's been there a long time. Pal Doesn't narrow it down. Me Grey Hair? Pal Still not narrowing it down really Me Seemed very nice Pal Nope Me Wife wears glasses Pal Oh right - now I know. Me No-one likes a smart alec. Anyway, his name came to me about 10pm that night and I texted it to her in Poole. Am only hoping that she remembered the conversation as otherwise she may be a bit frightened by the way she received a text just saying "Don Nuttall!"
(Apologies to Joyce Meyer for the mis-spelling of her name. Actually, apologies also to John Newton who had already said this years earlier but he said it before the Internet and therefore it didn't really count) I couldn't remember if HOH and Yours Truly had made a deal about whether I was going to watch Endeavour on my own because he had such a rubbish shift on Sunday and wouldn't be back until after 11. We may have discussed it but I may not have been paying attention. So I decided not to bother. I found an old Danny Baker programme discussing the best ever pop albums. After a long discussion, Baker nominated Michael Jackson's Off the Wall as his best pop album. This vindicated everything I had ever said on the subject. In my humble opinion, Jackson's first solo album had been his best with Thriller and Bad being very nice thank you, but following the law of diminishing returns. I had seen the same argument about Orson Welles. Welles first film was Citizen Kane. Many people have often nominated this as the best film ever made. There are not a lot of laughs in it to be honest but you can see what all the fuss was about. There then followed The Magnificent Ambersons which was not quite as good. Over the rest of his career, there were many highlights including The Thin Man and (my personal favourite) - The Stranger, but at the end of his life because his last jobs included providing the voice of Findus peas and the Carlsberg voice-over, the theory was put forward that he had lived his life backwards. The theory is that, in life, we start with little expertise and experience and over the years , we combine both so that our lives are on a steady upward curve where we grow as people and we get gradually better at living, until, when we die, we are actually experts at life. It isn't really happening like that for me. If my learning curve is going up at all, it is in a very wobbly sort of way. It falls back sometimes and often it sort of doubles back on itself. Sometimes, these things have been my fault. Sometimes they are things that have happened to me that have knocked me back. However, taken as a whole, I would hope that as I get older, I may get wiser, maybe a bit stronger and a bit less lily-livered. I like to hope that my faith will be stronger. I agree with Paul McCartney and it is a Long and Winding Road but I am hoping and praying that when the video of my life is played back on that great VHS player in the sky, it will look to be moving forwards ultimately and finishing further on than where I started from.
I will always be a northerner both by place of birth and by inclination. I am proud of where I come from and anyone who knows me knows that my accent will always betray me and go a bit Manchester when I am stressed or not concentrating. (Normally it is nothing but the Queen's English for me) However, I do like where I live. The South West of England is often a neglected corner and Plymouth particularly seems to be somewhere people pass through on their way to Cornwall. So I just wanted to share this with you. Plymouth is having a punt at becoming City of Culture. They have put this together to give people an idea about the city. And you know what? Plymouth - she rocks!
