Clean Cupboards

It feels more like autumn that spring here in Mansfield, the fog hasn't lifted all day and there is a slight drizzle of rain. The logs on the fire are doing as much as they can to alleviate the coldness that has permeated these old bones of mine, bones which ache just a little more than usual after Mrs B decided today was the day we cleaned the cupboards! I tried to resist but she can be very forceful, so I conceded defeat and tried my best to be helpful.

It happens once every four or five years, Mrs B decides to take everything out of the cupboards, and then put it all back in a slightly different order. She would say that we actually discard things we no longer need, I would point to the fact that we have pyrex dishes that predate Fanny Craddock, pyrex that we never ever use...but it is all now clean and stacked very neatly for another twelve or fifteen years!

We did throw away some out of date spices and condiments but on the whole we still have enough bowls, jugs, pots, flan dishes (god knows the last time we actually had a flan) casseroles and assorted glassware to start our own branch of Spoils. Actually did Spoils go out of business - if they did it is because  we have their stock.

The shelves are all clean and the work surfaces are visible for a change - I never put anything away you see - I like to keep things handy.

We have three salt pots, one with Lo-Salt one with sea salt and one with normal salt.

We now have pepper pots too numerous to mention with white ground pepper, black ground pepper, black pepper corns, white pepper corns, rainbow pepper corns, Szechuan pepper corns and garlic pepper.

In fact, let me show how neat the cupboard looks now...

The newly sorted cupboard

Please note the huge jar of Marmite that belongs to Mrs B, whereas the cup-a-soups lurking behind it, and already untidy and out of place, are mine.

Oh well, a job done and my only dread is that she will suddenly get the urge to tidy the garage!

Have a nice Saturday and good luck if you are buying a ticket in the lottery - it's a rollover.

I know how it feels!

Sunset

You find me in a reflective, nay pensive mood this evening. I have driven back from Spridlington, a village north of Lincoln, a beautiful and quiet place. As I drove back towards Mansfield, which is neither beautiful nor quiet, I was driving towards the setting sun and its vivid red colours filled the evening sky, painting the Trent valley with its majestic splendour.

As I drove along I was listening to some music and watching the changing scenery and thinking about this day - a day that has involved so many actions that if I were to list them it would take hours - from sitting up in bed, making a cup of tea, brushing my teeth, climbing into the car, talking, walking, laughing....

We take it for granted that we can do these things with differing degrees of ability and taking into account our age, our flexibility, any illnesses or injuries we have - yes, we take it for granted.

I conduct many funeral ceremonies for people who have suffered with dementia and Alzheimer's, it is a terrible disease, your mind turning to mush whilst your body carries on regardless. Today I carried out a funeral for a lady who had suffered a disease which is much worse - motor neurone disease.

The process is very cruel as you may well know - your mind stays sharp whilst your body slowly grinds to a halt - I can't think of anything worse. You end up unable to carry out any of the simple actions that I took for granted all day.

I know this is not a very cheery blog but I don't feel very cheery, even a beautiful sunset couldn't lift my spirits - and I doubt the bottle of Pinot I am about to tackle will ease the the situation - but at least I can open the bottle, lift the glass and swallow the wine.

If you want to know more about MND - click here.

Calling Doctor Lector

Greetings to my tiny band of perfectly formed followers  - I need to ask you a question.

What do you believe?

We are fast approaching the time when you will be asked to complete the census - sadly the Biblical requirement to travel to the place of our birth to be counted is no longer part of the process, which is probably the only reason that I would ever have re-visited Wisbech - capital of the Fens.

On the day of the census the head of the household will record all sorts of information and we will therefore all have to tell the state where we are and what we do and how many times a week we flush the toilet. We will also be asked what we believe, what faith do we belong to. This is where I get a little niggled and would like to stock up on fava beans and chianti - I don't think my faith or lack of it, is the  business of the state.

What will happen is that many will tick the Christian box because it's a default UK position - many who tick the box never go to church, never prayer, never watch Songs of Praise, never buy Daniel O'Donnell CD's and will be the worst hypocrites on the face of the planet.

The Hindu, the Sikh, the Muslim, the Jew, the Buddhist, the Rastafarian, the Jedi will all tick their boxes and those with no faith can tick the no faith option and we will end up with a list of figures which people will then use to argue that religion is dead or alive or wounded...

The information will be used to support the entrenched positions already occupied by fundamentalists of all creeds, including atheist.

So what good will it do? None.

Why can't we let faith be a private thing? Why can't we accept that some people change their mind according to life experiences?

What I believe today I may not believe tomorrow.

It's about as much use as asking what football team you support or what is your favourite colour.

So, followers of the Guru, bend to my will and on the day of the census draw a new box on the form and give it the title 'mind your own bleeding business!'.

There we go, just a quickie this morning - I am having my ears lowered and I have miles to go before I sleep...

See you soon dear ones.

Whatever Florrie Wants....

So, here we are again dear hearts - and after a swift kick up my blogging arse I return to a daily ramble full of intelligent comment and drivel.

It was a reuniting with Florrie that finally pushed me back over the edge into ego-world and to be frank it was not a moment too soon as my head is full of rubbish that needs sharing.

I enjoyed talking about movies and so on but it would seem that my reminiscences are not as well received as my ramblings.

Florrie was visiting our humble part of the globe from her chateau 'darn sarf' to help celebrate the 50th birthday of my sister in law Susan. It was a gathering of 34 people, family members and friends, who scoffed their way through piles of goats cheese, roast beef and a rather phallic looking fish mousse, whose positioning between two potatoes made more than a few ladies blush and a few men laugh out loud.

There were also various sweet treats plus several bottles of Rioja or Chablis depending on your taste.

A nice meal, good company and then a wonderful chocolate birthday cake which did not sport fifty candles due to the fire risk - instead one huge candle that should have come with its own semi clad fireman according to Mrs B.

This was only one part of the birthday celebrations, because very much like the Queen (whose hair style Sue copies very closely) there had been a second and earlier celebration held at Jamie Oliver's new restaurant in Nottingham. It was very nice too but we didn't have phallic fish or candles, these were saved for Sunday.

Anyway, Florrie told me off for not writing a blog she liked - and so throughly chastened I reunite my blogging muscles with the dark recesses of my mind and bring you - rubbish - endless witless, rubbish.


Fortunately I have things to say today - the car has been making a sort of quiet banging noise and I thought I better get it seen to before it becomes louder and more expensive. You will be glad to know that even a gentle, restful almost melodic little bang can cost you an arm and a leg - ask Paul McCartney.

Mrs B needs a new car but that again will be relegated in the list of purchases as I sell a kidney to pay for the repairs of my own sweet chariot.

I got home at about 10.30am, having avoided the news all morning, and settled down to watch The Oscars, which I had recorded. It was a very bad show, the hosts were young and pretty and not up to the job - they allowed Kirk Douglas on stage and I thought he would never go - he'll be back next year as one of the faces in the montage of dearly departed luvvies though.

Colin Firth won - surprise, Natalie Portman won - surprise, Melissa Leo said a rude word - no fucking surprise - the whole thing was awful and then they brought out a children's choir to sing Somewhere Over The Rainbow and I suddenly had the urge to join the Foreign Legion. I resisted though, because I wanted to watch Bargain Hunt.

Well not much else to say today, so I will make my goodbyes and head off to start worrying about tomorrows blog - thanks for that Florrie!

Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid!

This weeks meander began with Sir Christopher Lee being honoured at the Bafta Film Awards with a Fellowship, for his achievement in film and a career spanning almost seventy years. He holds the record of completing 266 films since 1948,many of which are blockbusters like Lord of the Rings, but for me Christopher Lee was Hammer Horror, with his friend Peter Cushing, they bring back some wonderful scary memories.

Sir Christopher Lee
Bafta 2011

Throughout the history of cinema, shock and horror have been a regular part of our film diet. These days the pretty boy vampires and werewolves of the Twilight Saga rule the roost but in years gone by the monsters were a little less boyish but still had a strong sexual element in their portrayal, epitomised by Lee as Dracula.

As a youngster I always loved scary films, I would watch Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff all day and perfected pretty good imitations of their voices.

The Tingler

There were always scary films on late night television, I seem to recall Friday nights being a favourite time to sit up and enjoy such classics as The Tingler with Vincent Price.

The names I remember are not just those of the great stars, but the supporting actors too who added a sense of menace and usually met a grisly and gruesome end - some had faces that just suited horror films. Peter Lorre, George Zucco, Henry Daniel, Lionel Atwill as well as spooky ladies like Maria Ouspenskaya.

Vincent Price as Dr Phibes

In Great Britain I had the great fortune to be born at a time when Hammer Horror was still producing great films - starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee and great supporting stars like Thorley Walters Andrew Keir, Francis Matthews and Ingrid Pitt.







Vincent Price would also surface in the UK to make such wonderful films as Theatre of Blood and The Abominable Dr Phibes.

But let me take you back to the glory days of black and white horror, the wonderful films that were made by Universal including definitive adaptations of Dracula, Frankenstein, The Wolf Man and The Mummy.

During the 1930’s and 1940’s we see the production of films that are still watched to this day and still clearly influence new films treading this familiar path - but for me they never made a better film of Frankenstein than the one James Whale made in 1931.

Perhaps you have seen the film Gods and Monsters, starring Sir Ian McKellan, which looks at the life of Whale after his star had faded, but it reminded a new generation of film goers to have another look at the classic film. Beautifully shot it is a haunting tale which contains both pathos and shock - too much shock for the time as certain scenes were banned for many years.

Karloff 

Boris Karloff acts his heart out under all that make up and it all can be clearly seen in his eyes - the pain, the torment of the creature and yet the yearning to be something more that an assemblage of human pieces.

Lugosi

I really cannot recommend the film highly enough and once you have seen it I’m sure you will feel like watching Dracula too - Bela Lugosi giving his Eastern European heritage full rein as he mesmerizes Helen Chandler as Mina Harker. Also produced in 1931, the film was directed by Tod Browning but produced by Carl Laemmle Jnr, the producer of Frankenstein and The Mummy (1932).

There had been earlier attempts to film these classic horror stories and we must also recall the various versions of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde that have popped up from time to time - but as a boy, this was a starting point for a love affair with horror which stays with me to this day.

When the mantle (or cape) was passed to Christopher Lee, we saw Dracula in a new light and in Technicolor - Kensington gore running down the necks and décolletage of a series of buxom ladies such as Barbara Shelley, Madeline Smith and Linda Hayden.

Lee as Dracula

Of course Lee needed a new cape because Lugosi had been buried in his after he died in 1956, a shadow of his former self and a man who was perhaps re-born for us all after Martin Landau portrayed the old actor in Tim Burton’s Ed Wood (1994) although his family would be quick to tell you that the portrayal was far from accurate - well it is the movies.



Burton also employed Lee in several of his films and admitted that actors like Lee were a staple of his youth, actors who knew how to control the horror and not allow the horror to overtake the performance.

Cushing

Lee is by all accounts a very nice man, as were his friends Cushing and Price. Cushing the eternal Van Helsing or Baron Frankenstein, Price the master of gothic American horror - each man giving countless performances with great heart.

As an aside, to see the two sides of one actors work I would suggest you watch Vincent Price in The Masque of the Red Death (1964) and then The Whales of August (1987) two brilliant and totally different characters painted by a talented actor.

Modern horror films seem to rely an awful lot on how bloody and brutal they can make the deaths, whereas with the films I recall it was the suspense and the shock that really made you jump - and in writing this blog I feel myself wanting to watch The House That Dripped Blood or Tales From the Crypt...but I might wait until Friday night!

Sleep well my children, and do not fear the darkness - but perhaps what the darkness conceals...
Evil Laughter

Lee, Price & Cushing