Finally the eagerly awaited results courtesy of Julia and Richard
Patricia 16 , Chris (Me) 15, Charles 14
others – various rubbish results
PATRICIA WINS!
Congratulations to her and shame on my family and friends who were either too scared or play or have not been paying adequate attention to my blog to know the competition was running or in several cases did not appear to see the point – tut tut.
love to all
I am mid early birthday celebrations while the boys and the girl are here. It obliges them to buy me presents before they escape to their various fast lanes.
I had the most wonderful if unplanned day. The original plan was to go Tai but halfway through the morning in my selfish spirit of ‘let’s only do what I want to do as I am ill’ I decided I could not be bothered. I think the whole birthday specialness is so overrated. I much prefer birthday idleness and indulgence. Presents are the only thing that matter to me and given the family were trapped and Maria knows about my insistence on expensive, toylike and no soft stuff I was confident they would deliver on that front. True the boys are less predictable, somewhat prone to use my Amazon account to buy my present with a card made of Staples A4 printer paper and the moving greeting ‘Happy Birthday Dad” love ‘n’ son. On one occasion many moons ago Arthur sent me a card with ‘Happy Birthday Arthur’ on it. All that I have just said is of course a gross exaggeration, they are both extremely thoughtful and generous (nearly all the time when they have not forgotten that my birthday was scheduled early – like this morning). Anyway I had more chemo in the afternoon. The only cute nurse at the hospital was a birthday treat – although my efforts to woo her with my pasty face, conversation highlights that include tingling, puking and pooing and my ballon like belly stuck out toward Mecca for her to insert her magic wand into don’t seem to be making much progress, so not having scored, on the way back we (my incredibly good humoured loved one) popped into Waitrose, bought loads of Pizza and stuff and I had the best birthday evening I have ever had watching West Side Story with the whole family. We all agreed it is a masterwork and despite being clearly of its time it successfully transcends its period feel just as Brief Encounter did when we welled up watching it yesterday. WSS went on so long my presents have been delayed till today so I woke at 4:00 to start clearing my play room ready for the pile.
I had a few troubled e-mails due to the tone of my last post. (Yes I know that title rang alarm bells – oh dear maybe I set out to do that – a classic Freudian slip – yes I did oh no argh) No. The fact is you have all got it wrong – I am not troubled, you are on my behalf, you great nits. I will always write truthfully that means sometimes I get scared, not depressed, not anxious, not sad, not hopeless, not not not…. Scared like you do before you jump off a diving board – coo that’s a bit scary. Being a bit scared is part of the illness deal, it strikes me once in a blue moon when my illness itself or the BBC reminds me of my illness. I deal with it by enjoying life, buying stuff, loving my friends and family, eating, sleeping, driving, avoiding walking, playing with the cats scabs and de rusting my paper guillotine. I REFUSE to fudge it – if you lot can’t take it then that’s your problem not mine. I will not vet what I write so you lot feel ok about me (mind you I deeply appreciate the fact that you care) so unsubscribe or don’t read this blog if that’s what you want ( no don’t do that – have you seen my post Russian brides stats).
Actually ever since I started Chemo I have been feeling great. Massively better than before so why on earth should I be anything other than a little ray of sunshine. AND THAT’S THE TRUTH.
I have got really into Twitter. I was so unconvinced at first but a dear friend and colleague told me he thought it was like being in the pub with your mates and once I adopted that approach and stopped showing off or promoting myself I like it. I follow all the family and a very few friends, Russell Brand, Richard Dawkins, HeForShe and my favourite ‘Voice of God.’
You can follow me @gravityisahat if you have a Twitter account. It’s really fun trying to condense your thoughts to 140 characters or less.
Nearly time for a Tsunami of presents – everyone is still asleep except no doubt the cats and their dead friends – eternal sleep for them. I wrote my first mawkish sonnet which is now published for the benefit of my exclusive critics. Very difficult indeed some serious flaws – rhyming ‘under’ with ‘balaclava asunder’ is a golden moment worth of Donne.
Love and peaceful revolution. Trust not in fairy stories. Kick Nigel Frarage’s arse. Trust no authority figures other than me. Vote Labour (I suppose hmm glum) unless you have any better ideas.
It was on the news yesterday. A woman of 51, friend of Jarvis Cocker, a mental health nurse actually. Strange thing to report until it was made clear she had been the inspiration for a well known ‘Brit Pop’ song I had never heard of. Certainly would have been better if it had been Ebola or Alzheimer’s, not for her of course but for those of us whose case notes tally with hers it’s a bit of a kick in the shins under the table.
Of course this is actually nothing new at all. The definition of a serious illness is not “0h well you’ll be fine in a bit, so no need to worry” it’s “You might not be fine ever, so you had better worry.” As you know its all all about proximity. Something that happens over there in another continent, country, city, town, village, garden or at another dinner table is out of range – the kick does not hit its target but a few shuffles closer and whack, a startled expression of unexpected pain and a big bruise that lasts a day or two for the whacked one – and at 2:30 am, sat up in bed with an iPad, that bruise does start to turn a bit yellow.
Of course its is ridiculous if you are one of those people who believe that human beings think rationally. But as a rule in extremis they don’t. Those very rare people who can land passenger aircraft on the Hudson River are just that, very rare. Us normal folk go off like last years fireworks having been stored in the garage and partly consumed by mice ( I speak from experience here) – extremely unpredictably not to say dangerously. So for a few hours I went “yikes.” Not proud not ashamed just startled. More on fireworks in a mo.
All this was not enough to diminish my joy one iota at the turn of the year and the wonderful social and family time we have had over Christmas. I was of course very disappointed to not have received more cards complementing me on my courage in the face of a life threatening disease and noting what an inspiration I was to you all. For goodness sake you did not take me seriously when I said I was not to be referred to as a hero, brave, a role model nor my state as a fight, a struggle or a battle. Where are the cards and greetings sent to me personally, never mind Santa, Jesus and the other Elves how about a few moonpigs with me looking uncannily like Che Guevara , strong, young , a bit revolutionary and certainly important.
Other than this bitter disappointment things have been truly blissful. Two boys at home with Maria, sadly one boy without one important girl (only temporarily I should say she will be with us today – hooray!!) and then New Year’s Eve with great friends. All neurosis of germs almost put aside save for a paucity of snogging or hand shaking which lets face it is always embarrassing on New Year’s Eve, and I was able to pull my ‘I am much to delicate to go outside at midnight and let off fireworks’ trick thus avoiding getting cold, burnt or on this occasion blown up by two incompetent lads cementing rockets into the mud so that they exploded catastrophically tethered to the launch pad.
I feel tempted to bore you with my list of presents. The best year ever in my view. Very little annoying soft stuff, none I think, plenty of proper toys, a weather station , a 1960’s movie camera, ‘Revolution’ not the real thing sadly, the book, Turkish Delight, a functional steam boat for the bath – all my goodies were really goodly and yes I did get slippers but what a joy! One every minor side effect I get from chemo is cold feet, so for the first time ever in the history of Christmas, here is a man receiving slippers from his wife and rather than seeing this as the final nail in the coffin for his secret fantasy middle age of Belusconi/Brand parties, being deeply grateful and toasty footed. Wonderful.
The passing of years, aside from the social opportunity has never meant much to me. Numbers don’t. If I am honest 1999 to 2000 did on some sort of Sci-fi/mythical level but 2014 to 2015, so what. I have always tried to avoid New Years resolutions but despite the theoretical stance expressed above I have always failed so to do. Last years was a big mistake as I started a catastrophic diet that eventually led to my diagnosis. I suppose that was a good thing but two and and a half stone in a few months was a bit OTT. This year I have set my self none. I have plenty of things I want to do – like, learn to write poems in proper verse forms but as I know I will fail, particularly if I set them up as resolutions for the first time since my teens, I have resolved to posit no resolutions directed toward self betterment. Such a tiresome idea anyway. Oh yes one resolution – no resolutions directed toward self betterment. That’s it.
Love and peace to you all. Xxx
Btw: I have finally managed to freeze out all the hits from spammers to this site, hence my statistics are now considerably more realistic (if ego deflating) as they are based on visits from humans rather than machines. I was intrigued by the 20 odd people a day that seems to be craving my pearls, it now is down to a more realistic 5 or 6 but happily they don’t include visits from me to view my own masterworks or any prospective Russian brides or adverts for cheap ugg boots (is that what they are called?). Many thanks to anyone who has continued to read this since August and particularly those that comment or follow up privately. It has been a lifeline to me! – but as I have said many times while I am grateful to those that read it, it is the selfish act of writing it that really works for me – so please please please no compulsion to care, to read, to write, to comment, to think about or to feel guilty about not reading (you b******s) – just be there. Ta.
Final set for now. I can play this time as I have not yet listened and have been given no extra info. I expect I will defeat you all as I consider myself the superior one on high art but I will give you some time to flounder before your trouncing. Same rules as before.
I think I have managed to a fair impersonation over the last 6 months of a grumpy old man who hates everyone and everything that doesn’t fit into his particular world view. As it is Christmas and Jesus time I thought I had better set the record straight and say I am not really like that or at least I hope not. I don’t even dislike Christmas. I have always liked getting presents and quite like giving them. All my memories of Christmas are happy ones, even going to midnight mass with my mum and dad. So yahoo sucks to you lot that think I am just an angry cynic. Christmas cards annoy me because they feel rather compulsory and they fall over every time you draw the curtains – they are also, with very few exceptions very ugly indeed. However we had one this year that I really liked. It was by one of my great nephews and consisted of a stream of coloured lines in a vaguely festive shape – it seemed to have been done with no regard for any of the traditional symbols just an expression of perfunctory joy that summed up the mood perfectly. Other than that delight my nurse vomited during my chemo yesterday which was a festive role reversal and I found this letter (below) from Rowan Williams the ex Archbishop of Canterbury who I admire very much. I found it very touching if factually flawed.
Another annoyance I won’t subscribe to is wishing people a Merry Christmas. So I won’t and don’t. Instead I will wish all my readers love and peace and a life as rich as Jimmy Hendrix only longer and without the drugs. Xx Here’s hoping we are all here next year especially me.
I am fed up with people of faith making excuses for religious atrocities saying it has nothing to do with religion. The Archbishop of Canterbury has admitted that if the Church of England endorses gay marriage (to be honest I thought they had) it will lead to the murder of Christians in Africa because people will think that all Christians are gay and go and kill them. What is this if it isn’t religious ideologies inflaming hatred and justifying murder. I have no gripe with Archbishops, I liked the last one, just so long as their views are taken no more seriously than anybody else’s. Unfortunately we operate in a society where church and state are still wrapped up. 26 bishops sit in the House of Lords. One has to ask why? I digress. The archbishop needs to stand up for humanity as a whole including the right of any section of society to go through some daft ritual if they wish to without the fear of being murdered. I sense the archbishop kowtowing to the religious right. So he’s off my Christmas card list.
The recent atrocities in Sidney and Peshawar were committed by men of a particular faith who want to impose their religion on others. Those of a religious inclination must take responsibility for advocating a world view that gives rise to such actions, just as those with no religious faith need to take responsibility for actions taken in the name of atheism, in many respects a troublesome track record. Let’s stop mucking about – religion is responsible for some very bad stuff and the religious, of any faith need to take responsibility for it.
@TheTweetOfGod: Only one religion is right but I won’t say which one because I want you to figure it out by hating and killing each other while I watch.
https://twitter.com/thetweetofgod/status/534143856250351616
Can you really ‘believe’ in several contradictory ‘truths.’
As you know I am not a great believer in anything. I think belief is a meaningless word – it seems to say something important but doesn’t. If you substitute the word ‘prefer’ then It’s true character is revealed – for example; “I prefer God” sounds pretty drippy but essentially that’s what “I believe in God” amounts to – a statement of your own preference for God over no God. Setting ‘believe’ aside, as well as being meaningless, truth is a very dangerous concept – again I would argue it doesn’t exist other than as a convenient measure of personal preference and an excuse for divisiveness. The truth is no more ‘out there’ than God. Truth is just an individual snapshot of a preference expressed in a moment in time that has already passed. As such it means nothing at all. Still dangerous though – hmm that seems paradoxical. So down to the nitty gritty – if this is the case then it is perfectly ok to believe in several contradictory truths – so here goes with the one that troubles me.
I don’t like bullies but neither do I like bullies being bullied by crowds. Let’s take our local landowner – without doubt a bully and should rightly be guillotined, but were he to be set upon by a braying crowd of local self righteous lefties bearing flaming torches, like me – I would be inclined to whisk him away to a safe place under my woollen cloak. That’s just because braying crowds are often peopled by angry opportunist nits for whom I have no respect. Braying crowds outside the Old Bailey to spit at the latest murderer, rapist, Paedophile being a nauseating case in point. I actually end up despising them more than the perpetrator of the crime.
Personally this view is particularly troublesome when it comes to union campaigns. Naturally I am a member of a Union, naturally I support the workers right to take action including strike action but boy do I resent it when the union starts throwing its weight around and telling me or others what to do. This reminds me of a little boy who wants his friend to come round to play cars but does not want his friend to touch his cars in case he spoils them – that’s me by the way. I cried.
So to sum up – can you believe in the empowerment of the individual over the state while believing in the empowerment of the state over any individual you happen not to like? That really does sound like having your cake and eating it? Sadly it’s the ‘truth’ of my political convictions – oh boy, better start again from scratch.
Fiddled with www.cancerwithoutgod.com this morning to tweet when anything gets posted. Feel free to follow me @gravityisahat.
Bowels much improved, thank you for all your good wishes. Hmmmph! Seems my nerve endings survived the Velcade. – yes that’s the brand name for for one of drugs I take that /which (someone remind of the rule in Strunk and White) can have some nasty side effects.
In excellent spirits as always – up at 4 .00 am this morning full of bounce. Might give this tweeting thing a try again. Find most tweeters just annoying but do subscribe to a few who keep me entertained/informed. I also happened upon this cafe sign
which/that (arghh confidence ebbing … ) could only be found on Twitter and I had to re engage to get a copy – hence I am tweeting again. ADNE will be in despair.
Not sure what the right formula is? Tweets that make you feel like you are missing out on a world of exciting things and why aren’t you more connected and interested get binned. Funny things as long as they are funny I might read. ‘I am overlooking the Grand Canyon – it’s 4.oo in the morning and it’s taken a 18 mile hike to get here.’ Binned and abused. ‘Link to my new book’ – binned. ‘Link to my new partner.’ – read – nosey. ‘I am feeling sad and vulnerable – read. ‘My cat fell over’ – read. ‘Mine and other people’s research is cooler than yours’ – binned. ‘Look at the banoffi pie I just made/am about to eat.’ – binned. ‘Stephen Fry/Russell Brand said this’ -maybe read if I have time. ‘Support my campaign to rid the universe of UKIP and all similar entities’ – read – favourited – retweeted. ‘Chris Newell is just great. – so brave – so intelligent – so sporty – so sexy etc.’ binned (he lied)
Actually I have no sense of the Twitter community at all so everything I have just said is probably nothing like what actually goes on. But since being ill I have felt a constant need to shout about stuff. Never ever felt that before in my life. So as I have said many times before, and I am not apologising, I think it is something to do with losing control through illness then asserting control through mouthiness. So brace yourselves or just possibly as has occurred every other time I have tried to embrace this new medium I will lose interest and delete my Twitter account yet again – at least I don’t do Facebook.
Amanda Leach (@nuggyleach) tweeted at 4:50pm – 9 Dec 14:
“@KateShirazi: We’re causing a bit of a stir. Love it. #Exeter #cakeadoodledo #getagrip pic.twitter.com/UafUjaE40c” ha ha you are a legend Mrs S (https://twitter.com/nuggyleach/status/542360702225506304?s=17)
News on a local Scrooge, my BBC commission failure, my bottom and the cats bottoms.
Another very early start so I thought I would ramble. This is not the only thing I do in the morning in case you were wondering. I get on with with mini projects and shop. I have been doing a lot of online Christmas shopping and because I have the wonderful but expensive Amazon Prime I get things next day, even Sunday’s.
Recently I have been doing an hour or twos research hunting down facts on our local landowner. I was prompted to do this when chatting to the workers installing a new electricity cable. Because our landowner (80th richest man in the country – under a billion though) refuses to trim the branches from the top of his trees that currently disrupt the supply, we tax payers are picking up the bill for diverting the electricity cables around his land underground – not cheap. This reminded me of an Italian novel ‘Fontamara’ in which the local robber baron re-roots or cuts off the local water supply in order to tax or squeeze out the local peasants. Our landowner has also refused to let the the workers walk over certain bits of land which I had assumed were public. He has a habit of turning public roads into private roads and just hoping no one will notice. His reputation as the ultimate modern day Scrooge/King John is widespread and there are countless anecdotes of his personal cruelty that I won’t repeat here as his hobby is litigation and he employs Blair’s wife’s old legals to fight his cases. Suffice to say he is someone that someone should take on – not me – not the local council they can’t afford it – someone worth a billion upwards who can afford to match his bottomless pockets for seemingly trivial bits of litigation.. As my address book does not have an entry for someone like this I wrote a poem instead – my first overtly political one – not very good at all – sounds a bit like bad Russell Brand but I feel so much better for it. You should note he owns most of the market town of Tadcaster and the Sam Smith Brewery. He patrols his local properties early in the morning maybe to avoid his disgruntled tenants or the vigilantes which I assume exist at least in the fantasies of many. Actually come to think of it that subject might make a better poem. I will post separately after checking with my lawyers – tee hee.
Talking of feeling better the chemo cocktail is doing nicely and I feel great. That is apart from troublesome bowels caused by the nerve damage subjected by my expensive drug. Did you know my chemo is based on mustard gas. After the First World War they found that soldiers that had been gassed had experienced cell damage. They use the same compounds to kill off Cancer cells. Any way this symptom is negligibly disruptive so I am certainly not complaining or worried. Ah the blessed bidet!!!
Other news is I got turned down flat by the BBC for my radio play VENT. It’s better than they think, but worse than I think so fair enough. I am still planning to do it as there are loads of independents who will probably take it if I don’t charge and I have some parts recorded already. I am looking forward to making it myself – that will be a real challenge but fun.
Maria and I have have a missionary zeal about communicating the merits of failure. Both our children were brought up on it and are sick to death of hearing it but Maria and I have had the privilege of failing many, many times. Mainly auditions and job interviews but in my case countless grants and commissions. I don’t exaggerate when I say I must have received at least 100 humiliating put downs in my creative life many shared with my dear friend Paul. I used to be genuinely put down by them – now I honestly don’t care anymore than when I don’t win the lottery on a Sunday. What I have instilled in my children is the notion that if you care enough that it stops you doing something then you don’t deserve to be doing it and go find another profession now cos you are not ready. Authoritative voices that wield power are not always right. By that I mean funding bodies, arts councils, critics etc are people just like us with axes to grind, personal prejudices, good and bad taste, opportunistic tendencies, talents and delusions. We all need to try to jump through their hoops but having jumped and fallen over just get up again and get on. Don’t moan, winge or write blogs on the subject we have heard it all before – whoops..
Other natural history news – Mitch’s head continues to explode- Maria bathes it in salt water and as long as it is warm he loves it. Both cats are doing the worm bottom shuffle so time for a dose. Our rats are dead but have chosen to die between the floorboards wrapped around warm water pipes so our house smells like Sweeney Todd’s. A deer came to visit us and Maria got a picture of its bottom. Heard no more from the stoat. Usual host of mice complete or in bits. For those we may see New Year’ – bring your pomanders – seriously we stop noticing but the Selby Council rat man entered and turned a bit green, of course there is always the risk of the plague (Arthur got bitten on the head while asleep by a mouse) or limes disease from the visiting dear or worms from the cats or cancer from me (only joking) tee hee. See you all soon – do pop in. I bet you want to.