Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Horses and other things

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Good to hear from you Anna. I am glad you are enjoying your London Trip. Yes, the Changing of the Guard is indeed a splendid sight.

But as regards the horse you observed: The fact that the horse raises its tail before defecating does not necessarily indicate that the animal is intelligent. I mean it’s not as if the horse says to itself – I need a shit, I’d better lift my tail. No, it is probably a reflex action, a function of the autonomic nervous system of the horse, hard-wired in the horse’s brain over centuries of evolution. And natural selection has ensured that the tail-lifter survives, while the non tail-lifter dies out. Simple as that.

Coincidentally, I am writing a paper: The effect of barometric pressure on the large intestine. This has nothing to do with horses but has to do with Irritable Bowel Syndrome and me. I have noticed that when the weather changes it affects my lavatorial habits; rain and damp (i.e. low pressure) seems to cause a build-up of gas, resulting in bowel spasm and all that follows – which is a lot.
Unlike the horse, I do not have a tail to lift – which is probably as well. The amount of toilet paper (and the cost) is, however, somewhat alarming. I once read somewhere that if you need to use more than two pieces of toilet paper there is something wrong with your diet. I just cannot believe this. I do recall, however, that in my first job, as an engineering apprentice in a locomotive works, when you went to the lavatory (having first obtained permission from the foreman) you were handed TWO sheets of toilet paper by the man in charge of the bogs. He sat on a stool (a wooden one!) just inside the entrance and his job was to see that no one lingered longer than absolutely necessary. In fact there were no doors on the cubicles so that he could see exactly what was going on in there. (On reflection, I think that maybe they were concerned that employees did not masturbate in company time thereby depleting the store of energy needed for work. I stress, however, that this is only a theory.) The standard issue toilet paper was that thin, shiny, stuff that you don’t see nowadays. It was useless; it skidded across your bum and just spread the mess instead of cleaning it up. Still it did serve the purpose of discouraging shitting during working hours.

Yes, life is truly amazing. But death? Well, death is something else. I still have not come to terms with Auntie Edna’s passing from this life. I mean, just what is going on here? Is this Nature’s great conjuring trick? ‘The Lady Vanishes’? Now you see her – now you don’t?

I am glad that you read ‘The Flea’, and that Brian helped with the imagery. You may care to read ‘To His Coy Mistress’ by Andrew Marvell – he was another one who couldn’t keep it in his hose. Of course, they did not have television in seventeenth century England.

But where are today’s metaphysical poets? Letting my imagination run riot (which is what I do) I pictured a CHAV’s poem of seduction:

I am a man of words but few,
And that is why I ask of you:
Do you, girl? Or do you not?
Replied the maid – no I do not.
Well, sometimes,
Just a little bit -
All right, you’ve talked me into it.


You are probably snug and warm in your Purley flat by now, with a box of ‘Sweet and sour’ bubbling away in the microwave. We are having smoked haddock for lunch – with poached egg. This is a frequent item on our luncheon menu. I enjoy it, although the aroma sometimes lingers.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Your (frustrated) lover.

George.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Hello Georgie

The reason I have not written is something you would not be believing except you will when I am telling you. But first let me say this is nice thing Amy is writing for her auntie Edna. Now you, my Georgie, must be taking it easy because you know how funerals bring on you an attack of the piles. So try to relax and perhaps have whisky or two.
The reason I am not writing before this time is not because I am taking the offence of you altering my post - yes, Anna did make slip with her digit, I do know difference between colonoscopy and colostomy so am not 'Silly Swedish Strumpet' but this I know is just your joking. Actually, I am Swedish and also Strumpet (ha, ha) but am not silly. Well that has cleared up that.

I am staying in London with Brian at The Inn on the Park, which is very up the market hotel. This is little treat what Brian has planned as surprise in return for all the meals I have been cooking for him and cleaning flat and doing other housewifely chores - excepting sex.

In this fine hotel we are sharing double bed and holding hands in nightime but nothing more, alas. Brian is taking me to see all sights of London town. Like the amazing Tower Bridge which lift up in two parts for the boats to pass beneath. And also, of course, your Bloody Tower. What a bloodthirsty lot were you English people, chopping off heads, burning people at a stake and smothering children left right and to the centre. But you also know how to put on good show, like with the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. Oh, Georgie, what a fine spectacle. The colour and the music with all the bands playing and the erect soldiers in their scarlet tunics, the bearskin hats and polished swords. Such pageantry. And the beautiful horses, noble beasts with brasses gleaming in the morning sun, their coats all brushed and shiny, so magnificent and proud. And I also learn something interesting, because I notice for first time, how horse lift its tail before crapping on road. Such an intelligent animal is the horse.

One other surprise Brian has for me is he buy me laptop computer. This is brilliant - I use it now at this moment by the connection with the Wi Fi in hotel. But also it will save me in the future of having to journey to internet cafe and sit among smelly youths who are on benefits and nothing to do but surf all day the net. But also as they say, for every gain there is a loss and it means that I do not go out and therefore reduce chance of meeting acceptable man for sex (not for love, that is for you only) so anyway I think I may still go down to the cafe except when raining and then I will use laptop.

Oh, and I ask Brian to show me the area SOHO. This is disappointment because in no way does it compare with Amster district in my beloved Stockholm. Still you cannot have everything and I am so enjoying my trip. Also I have ride on big wheel you call 'London Eye'. I am thinking it is called this because you can see all over city from top of wheel. I press close to Brian pretending to be scared, so our thighs are touching. But this is to no affect so I give up.

Brian also take me to museums - Science, and Victoria and Albert, and also British Museum. Here in library I look up poetry of Mr Donne, the metaphysical poet. And especially 'The Flea' because lady Purple Cow talk about this. At first I do not understand a word and am thinking what a load of crap. But then Brian (who has degree in English literature which I did not know)explain that it is about love and seduction and sex which then is right up my street as you English say. Anyway I learn that this man is lying with woman but she will not do it with him no matter how he try to persuade her. Then comes this flea which give her love bite on breast (which he would like to do but hasn't got courage). Well, then this flea goes and bites man - poem does not say where. So this gives man idea, and he says that flea now has blood of both of them in it so this is same as if they had sex so why not do it now? But lady still fannying about (excuse language) so man try to bring religion into it - I don't know how he manages to do this. Is he saying fucking is really a holy activity? (perhaps it is). But then what does this silly cow do? She kills flea! What harm has little creature done her? Except to bite on breast, which I say is her fault for leaving it out where it could be bitten on. Man say this like murder. But seeing this get him nowhere he say it hasn't harmed them so neither will having a quick fuck harm them. Personally I think this tart not worth the effort. But poem changes my opinion about metaphysical poets. I am asking Brian to find for me more poems like this one.

We go back to Purley tomorrow.

Write quickly to me.

Your lover in absence.

Anna
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Thanks everyone for your comments about Edna.

It is the funeral tomorrow and Amy has written something she wants to read out. This is the original draft - I think she has changed it around a bit but here it is, exactly as she wrote it.

Auntie Edna

My auntie Edna was a wonderful lady. She gave me pocket money, she had a great sense of humour and she was like part of my family. I remember one time when my gran was reading her a funny story and she couldn't stop laughing! We took her for meals and she had a marvelous time. She knew my brother Tom when he was juste 3 and he is now 16.
I was just a few hours old when I was right there in her arms. Ever since she has been one of my best friends in the whole wide world. I used to watch eargerly out of my playroom window, waiting for her to come. When I saw her, either coming up the drive in the car or walking, I used to race to the door to open it for her. She always said "Now I've got some garibaldi for you and something for Tom" and I used to have a smile from ear to ear.
When my mum met Allen he instantly got on well with everyone. Especially my auntie Edna. The laughed, had jokes and Allen gave her loads of his big bear hugs. In other words they got on like a house on fire.

Friday, March 26, 2010

It's a question of shirts

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I said before that Gretchen encourages us to ‘create’ from the back of our heads: the primeval brain, or the reptilian brain. She says that because we acquired language we have evolved lopsided, so to speak: the front part of our brain grows physically as we learn, and the creation of neural pathways actually pushes the brain out; that’s why we have a big brain, (and a big forehead). Of course this is at the expense of our primitive brain. In other words, we have become too cerebral. She claims that is the cause of most of the neuroses that cause people to be admitted to places like this. To put it another way – we think too much. We need to allow the feeling part of our brain to come ‘on-stream’ more. Pay more attention to ‘gut feeling’ and that much ridiculed ‘woman’s thing’ intuition. We are unbalanced. We need to redress this balance, hence Eric’s ‘Legs’. I agree with her.

Freddie - as I've said before - encourages me to talk about my childhood. I said to him – things started to go wrong with society with they began to make shirts that buttoned all the way down the front. When I was a lad, men had proper shirts. Shirts that just had four buttons at the top and you had to pull them over your head. I can remember many a freezing winter’s morning, in a bedroom with ice on the inside of the windows, all bleary eyed and yawning, struggling to pull my shirt on over my head. It made a man of you, though. (Well, it made a man of those who didn’t die of pneumonia). Then, somebody invented shirts that buttoned all the way down the front. Well, you could see where that was going to lead to, couldn’t you?

But Freddie wasn’t too impressed, so I told him about the day I played ‘Fuck’.

I was probably no more than five or six, and Alfie, my pal from across the road, invited me into his house. Maisie from a few doors down was also there. Alfie and Maisie were a year older than me. Anyway, Alfie led us upstairs into his parent’s bedroom, saying we were going to play fuck. In those days you never went upstairs in someone else’s house, but Alfie’s parents were out this day. I remember wondering at the old overcoats that covered the bed in lieu of blankets, how rough and coarse they felt. (We had proper blankets on our bed!). Anyway, Alfie instructed us to climb on the bed and when we had done so, to jump up and down, as if we were on a trampoline. Of course, he didn't say 'trampoline' because none of us had heard of such a thing. The three of us jumped up and down, whooping with laughter, bumping against each other, falling down, bouncing back up. It was great fun. And all the more so because it was ‘naughty’. We were in someone else’s bedroom! And that was all there was to playing fuck.
When I went home for my lunch (or dinner as we called it then) my mother asked me what I had been doing. I told her (the innocent that I was) that we had been in Alfie’s mum’s bedroom playing fuck. To say that I was not prepared for her reaction would be to put it mildly; my mother went berserk. She shouted at me and told me that she never wanted to hear that word again. I was shocked, literally. And I was mystified. Why was she so angry? She never bothered to explain. But I never used that word again – well not until after I was married.

Freddie tells me that up to 30% of problems that patients consult their GP about have a psychosocial component. And of course a lot of people suffering from what might be called ‘psychosocial problems’ don’t even consult a GP because they are afraid they woul be considered ‘weak’ and told to ‘pull themselves together’. In fact this is often what they are being told within the family. Freddie sees the family as a crucible, a melting pot of irrational fears, superstitions, guilt, unreasonable demands and expectations from which are reconstituted an individual's core beliefs. It is these core beliefs which lead to dysfunctional behaviour: low self esteem; poor coping strategies; unrealistic expectations of self and others; a view of the world as a dangerous place; a denial of one's true self, and an inablitiy to get ones needs met.

Or as Philip Larkin put it:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They give you all the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.


(I have a feeling, Anna, that I might have quoted this poem in full at some earlier date. Tell me if I have.)

I called at the pub tonight. (Yes we are allowed to visit the local inn.) I had a pint of strong lager to see if it would settle my stomach. I was on my own. I usually go with Derek, but he is on 'suicide watch'. That sounds like an invitation: Hey fellas, come and watch me do myself in!

You haven’t responded to my previous post. Okay, so you don’t like my photographs. Well I will post another one, which I hope you will find more to your taste.
Oh, wait a minute – you’re not sulking are you? Because I corrected your mistake? I didn’t think you would mind, but if I have offended you, I am truly sorry.

Talk to me, please.

Your lover (soon to be)

George

Thursday, March 25, 2010

We all make mistakes - that's why they have rubbers on the end of pencils.

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Why do plain-clothes policemen always look more like policemen than the ones in uniform?
Sam is now in CID. You remember Sam? He is the born-again Christian policeman who pulled me from the mud when I slipped off the bridge. (I am still not sure if it was a suicide attempt or not – Sam thinks it was).
Anyway, he came to see me yesterday – in his ‘plain-clothes’. He’d heard that I was back inside and thought he would ‘pop- in’, as he put it. I like Sam, even though I do not share his views… I hope he doesn’t think he’s going to ‘convert’ me. I told him to read a brilliant article in last Friday’s Independent by some geezer called Johan Hari: The Pope, the Prophet, and the religious support for evil. I don’t know if he will.

Anyway the real reason I am writing this post is to tell you, my Silly Swedish Strumpet, that it was kind of you to wish a speedy recovery to Propoquerian but – you typed ‘colostomy’ instead of ‘colonoscopy’. Not quite the same thing, but I expect it was a slip of the old digit. Not to worry – I have corrected it for you.

Enjoy your trip to our great city. Tell me all about it.

Love

George

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Colonoscopy is unnatural. It is like driving motor-car the wrong way up one-way street. I hope the lady Propoquerian has good recovery,

I do not like these photographs of legs. They are giving me the willies. I think person Eric who make this sculpture not right in head. This Gretchen person who encourage such unhealthy things is needing to be replaced I think by proper art teacher. Also why do you agree to take photos? If you want legs to photograph why then not photograph long Swedish legs of your Anna?

Brian was upset yesterday because he visit Winston who is doing her Majesty's pleasure. Brian is afraid Winston will find new boyfriend whilst incapacitated with the walls of prison even though Winston assure him this will not happen. Anyway when Brian return he is unconsolable, so I console him. I make him meal of the sardine on toast with the baked beans from the tin. Also I have purchased bottle of red wine from ASDA shop and we finish bottle together. I then suggest to Brian that he sleep in big bed with me tonight. Non of the hanky panky, I tell him, we just maybe hold hands like brother and sister. (This is what Sven and Anna do when they are little and there is nothing wrong in such activity). So this is what we do, and Brian fall asleep quickly which I think is because of red wine. I also think it because of red wine that he snore - and fart. In morning he say he feels much better whereas I have not much sleep because of frequency of snore and fart. Anyway he say he will take day off and give me little excursion around city of London, and will show me Bloody Tower and place called Whitechappel where Jack the Ripper made streets unsafe for women. (Brian say streets of this area are more unsafe today than when Jack was doing his stuff around there). Also he say he will show me art galleries and many famous paintings and Houses of Parliament where all the crooks live.
So busy and adventurous day ahead. I am just typing quickly this while Brian attends lavatory in which he always take long time, so that sometimes I knock on door and say - do you wish for me to push down upon your head (this is joke).

This is all I am saying for now.

But sending you all my love.

Anna

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Colour


Well, here is the colour version. I suppose this is better as a representation of the sculpture, but I think the b&w works better as a picture... more arty farty, with the eye being led up to the legs by the diagonal of cupboards and boxes. Anyway, what do you think?
Liya Lolita asks what camera do I use. This was taken with a Canon Sureshot digital (now broken). I have had many film cameras: Nikon, Canon, Pentax, Bronica - at the moment I have a couple of Pentax with lenses, a 35mm rangefinder and a 6x6 - I don't use any of these now.
Anyway, Anna, I think you are feeding Brian too well. If you go on like this he won't want you to leave. So don't make him too comfortable - and don't get too comfortable yourself.
By the way,John Donne is not a personal friend of mine. He is one of the 'metaphysical poets', and could knock out a good rhyme when he put his mind to it.
Still, I am glad you liked Clive's poem. He has given me another one, but I will save it for a later post. In a way it is good being in here - you meet such a diversity of people.
Are you reading the blogs I have been telling you about? Poor Propoquerian is going for a colonoscopy! I hope she is all right. She is so young to be having this procedure (yes I do know that she is not the cigar smoking lady)
This post is rather short but I will make up for it - I have much to say!
Looking forward to hearing from you...
Love... George

Monday, March 22, 2010

OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY


I said I would tell you about Gretchen. Well, she is more than a nurse: she is an Occupational Therapist. She encourages us to give free rein to what she calles 'the back of the brain'
I did not make this sculpture - although I did take the photograph. It was originally in colour but Gretchen wants us to explore 'the black and white image'. She says 'Colour describes; black and white reveals'. I think that is true although in the colour version you can see the 'blood' trickling down the vertebrae 'tree'. (Tell, you what - I'll see if I can include the colour version next time.)
The piece was made by my new chum Eric (he asked could he be my chum!) and he calls it 'Come walk with me'. I don't know what to make of it, but Gretchen loves it.
Gretchen used to be in here herself. One of us, I mean. Freddie likes to 'promote from the ranks', as he puts it. Of course this was after Gretchen was 'cured' (makes her sound like a side of bacon!!) and went on to go to university, eventually qualifying as an 'occupational therapist'. I think she's still a bit odd.
Anyway, she is encouraging me to take up photography again. As you know I used take a lot of phographs (remember those hot afternoons at Wynorin, down by the lake!) but sort of grew out of it. Now the urge to express myself through the lens, as well as by the written the word, seems to have returned. My digital camera got broken when I fell down the stairs and I said to Gretchen that I would like to buy a new and better one. But she said, 'George, don't do that.' She explained, 'Technology can get in the way of 'seeing'. Now, I know that your mobile phone has a decent camera - 3.2 megapixels, is it not?' I agreed that this was indeed the case. 'Well,' she continued, 'I want to see what you can do with that - unencumbered by lens changing (your camera has a modest zoom), adjusting for this, compensating for that. Just a screen on which to compose your picture. And you, George, know as well as I do that you must 'see' your picture before you even reach for your camera.'
I said, 'Well, I'll have a go, Gretch.' And that is just what I propose to do. Watch this space!

To get back to my chum Eric for a minute. He's a strange lad. Plays his cards close to his chest, as my grandma used to say (she taught me poker). I asked him why he was in here. (Actually, it's like being in prison: we go around asking, 'What are you you in here for?
'Wot me, mate? GBH... breakin' and enterin'... broke mi wife's nose innit... Well perhaps not quite like prison.
Anyway when I asked Eric, he said, 'Phobiaphobia'
'What's that?'
'It's a morbid fear of developing a phobia' replied Eric, with a grin. I like his sense of humour, but I am still none the wiser.

Anyway, enough about me. Yes, I was joking about the photo of Propoquerian. Have you looked at any of the other blogs yet?

The tea trolley is coming round so I am going to end there. I will send you a follow-up.

Love and stuff

George

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Of course I know how to look at people’s blog. Do you think I am silly Swedish Tart or somesuch? It is you my Georgie who are silly man. The lady Propoquerian is not cigar smoking elderly personage who you make comment to advise her to cease this destructive habit. No. If you look at tiny picture in Profile you will see much younger, attractive blonde lady. This is writer of blog. I think you should apologise for serious mistaken identity. (Oh, but just had thought – maybe this Georgie’s attempt at humorous effect? If so, perhaps you should tell lady, before she think you right twonk)

Yes I am recognising immediately from photograph of oarsman, my Georgie, even without beard such as you have in these days. I look up in Brian’s map book this river Dee, and I see it is near famous old Roman city of Chester. Is this where you attend school? And who is other person behind you in boat? He seem to be giving you strange look. Why is this?

Brian is educated man (this is surprising me for bus driver, then I remember he has also been chef). Brian is always seeking to extend his educational knowledge and he asks me lots of questions about my homeland of Sweden, like what is attitude to gays? I tell him that we are much more of tolerant nature and liberal than you are in this country of England. I also say that I myself used to be bisexual but had decided to go back into closet on this one. I hope this might cause Brian to reconsider sleeping arrangements but he makes not comment.
He reads two newspaper everyday – these being the ‘Daily Mail’ and the ‘Daily Express’. He is very understanding of British political scene and tell me that the Conservatives will win election in May. He will not tell me for whom is he going to vote. He says this between him and ballot box. Personally, I do not give a shit – but I tell Brian he is a secretive Berkshire Hunt. This surprise him because he does not think he is secretive. He also blush, but say nothing except that he will be late for work, and off he go. I shall cook him something nice for his supper. Perhaps something oriental, like the prawn and rice. I will put on my make-up and go down to the ASDA shop and see what they got on BOGOF. (This not Cockeny slang but mean BUY ONE GET ONE FREE.)

I am behaving like proper suburban housewife – except for the sex!
I have idea! I could perhaps come to St Botoph in disguise as Swedish student doing the study of mental health provision in this country of Britain. Like what treatment medication is being given and also what form of therapy and how about relaxation opportunity for patients? I would then ask to be interviewing small selection of patients.
Alas I have not suitable photo for blog. But I will telephone to brother Sven because he keep lots of photos, this being his hobby, the photography. I do not mean just the pornographic stuff because Sven always had his Canon in hand when young boy. Always was he taking the pictures, of everything – but mostly of his beautiful sister Anastasia, even when she was just tiny tottie.

No, I do not know this friend of yours Mr Donne who writes about death which as you know always give me the creepy crawlies up the spine. But I like poem by Clive and I know this Lady Gaga because she is on the television. She seem like a nice girl. I ask Brian if he read in his newspaper about autographing of private parts by this young boy who is also called George - what a coincidence. Brian say this quite true but only hat was signed.

I do not understand what you going on about with people enhancing lives and all that stuff but it sounds okay. So - how about a bit of enhancing, eh?

You said you would tell me about this nurse Gretchen?

Until we conjoin in ecstasy.

Anna

Friday, March 19, 2010

Just a thought

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You remember the lines I quoted, from the John Donne poem… ‘Any man's death diminishes me;’ Well, it occurred to me that the corollary to that could be, ‘Any man's Life enhances me.’ Of course, I include women in that. Your life enhances me, Anna. So do the lives of the people whose blogs I read. It really is, as Sally Brampton says, All about connectedness. It's about spreading ourselves around. I don't know if there is life after death but, surely, one sort of immortality is to live on in the minds of others.
Anyway I just wanted to pass this on to you.

By the way, have you seen the comments from Propoquerian and Liya Lolita? And have you had a look at any blogs? All you need to do is to click on the little pictures under ‘Followers’

You asked me what 'Berk' meant in rhyming slang. Berk is short for Berkshire Hunt... and I will leave it to you to work out what Brian means when he calls someone a Berk!

Oh, and I would prefer to go on calling you Anna, if you don't mind. Normally I don't like to shorten names - and Anastasia is a beautiful name - but I have got so used to Anna that I would feel awkward calling you anything else.

Do you like the photo of me? I am the one with the oars!!

Goodnight my sweet ANNA

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Worship at the altar of doubt

Well, Anna, another day dawns – but it doesn’t dawn for Edna, because Edna died last night, of a heart attack. I had a telephone call. Well, at least it was quick, but it was a shock to all of us. (You may remember Edna from your days at Wynorin )We used to call her 'Auntie Edna' although she was not really our auntie.) When I used to drive her home and see her safely inside her flat, she always said ‘Goodnight and God Bless.’ I, of course, just said Goodnight! – but I bless her, in my own way. She was 91, and some might say – well, she had a good innings. But this is not a bloody game of cricket.

Do you like John Donne? “… Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

As you know, Anna, I am not religious; I cannot take seriously a man who has to dress up in a frock, and intone an archaic language in a sing-song voice in order to propound a theory.

But what do you tell a child when someone they love dies? That they have gone to heaven? I suppose that is nice and comforting but I could not do that now. And I wonder what I would say. Perhaps something along the lines of ‘… well, nobody really knows what happens to you when you die, despite what the vicars and priests tell you. I think that a person lives on in the minds of all the people who knew them. Of course, they may also live on in some other world; we just don’t know.


Freddie has had me on a course of CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy). I have not told you this before because I wanted to see how I went on with it - I was not too hopeful. Anyway, I had my 8th and final session today - not with Freddie, but with a very nice CBT specialist on the staff. Her name is Mary. She is good. In fact I feel so much better, so much freer of the compulsion to neutralise intrusive thoughts. I can hardly believe it. Mary said I could always go back for more CBT but that she felt that we had done all we could for now. It was just a question of my practising what I had learnt.

I still have my sessions with Freddie (he is back from his conference so I am afraid, your visit will have to be kept on hold for the moment. But don't worry, my sweet, I am working on it.). Freddie wants me to talk aout my childhood - especially my relationship with my mother. He is trying to get to the root of my 'core beliefs' and associated 'schema'.

Have I talked about Gretchen? She is a sort of staff nurse (they don't really like labels here - and I agree with them. Anyway, I will leave it until my next post.

Have you noticed that I have included a photograph in my 'profile'? It was taken quite a few years ago when I was rowing on the river Dee. I don't think anyone will recognise me. It you want to publish a photograph you can do so by including it in a post - we are only allowed one photo in the profile.

Clive has been at it again! He says he saw a piece in the news about Lady Gaga (she is evidently a singer of some sort) asking 'Boy George' to autograph her vagina. George - rather tactfully, I thought - signed her hat instead. Anyway, he came up with this:

Each day she would shine her
Vagina,
With a polish imported from China -
A bloody good rub,
At two pounds a tub -
And the glow in the dark helped you find her.


If you find this offensive, or feel that it lowers the tone of the blog, then I will delete. In fact, you may do it yourself, if you wish.

Can't wait for your visit

As ever

George

Monday, March 15, 2010

I think this poem is silly. For how could spider – even if tarantula type of species – stop the workings of such big machine. I think your Clive is loony type person – but of course this is why he is in loony bin. Of course, you, my Georgie, are also in loony bin but you are being a different kettle of the fish (see how I learn idiomatics of English?) I pick up this one from Brian who is born hearing sound of Bow Bells in his ears so is Cockeny person - and so have lots of lovable Cockeny sayings for all the occasions you might be wanting something clever to say in the conversation you might be having with someone. They also have this thing called the rhyming slang – one slang bit he uses often is Berk. Though I do not know how this comes to be rhyming, and Brian will not tell. Do you know why he calls person a Berk? What can this possibly rhyme slang with?

This lady who make important discovery in park sound clever cow. Sven also make discoveries in park but these usually left over from sexual activity in this location. He tell me once he find pair of ladies knickers hanging from low branch of tree. Blowing gently in breeze are these pants, like flag perhaps, because they are in design of union jack which is your country’s great national emblem. This lady – owner of knickers – must be obviously tourist of which we get many in our beautiful city of Goteberg. Also very patriotic person is she, flying flag for Great Britain in Swedish park. More like this woman are needed for your country I am thinking, then perhaps you stop the sliding down slope of decadence which is what is happening now.

By the way, Brian insist upon calling me by proper name which is Anastasia, which the same you did when first I come into your employ as au pair. I say to Brian – you can call me Anna. But Brian say that Anastasia is lovely name and should not be shortened. I think I agree with him. How would you like to be calling me Anastasia in near future?

You are telling me about people who look at our blog. This I do not mind but how to see their blogs? I do not know this. Can you tell me? But I agree with photograph of selves not being put upon George blog. No way would I be wishing to have physiognomy (I look this word up in Mr Roger’s book – it is part of my wish to increase the vocabulary of English) stuck up for all world to see, especially nosey immigration lot.

Brian tell me there is election happening upon 6th May. So I ask him, will my Georgie be able to vote because he stuck inside loony bin. To my surprise Brian say yes. This does not seem to me good idea, to allow those who are sick in the mind to have vote? But might explain why you have government like you do.

Have you yet asked the nice Dr Singh if I may visit you? This would be for the benefit of your health both of the physical and the mental. And on subject of your mental health I do not think you should be reading books about depressed dogs.

I am pleased you do not buy army compass - even though this light up in the dark. It is good you practise resisting temptation but remember this needs not to be taken too far!!

Okay, I make no further mention of debt of money.

Your soon to be lover again

Anna (Anastasia)

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Just a quick one, Anna

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Talking of photos, you might like to look at 'Al knows what works' he's some sort of travel guide and there are some great photos on his blog.

Now you know I have a Certificate in Therapeutic Dreamwork... well have a look at 'Just another thought' by a guy called Pete. He is talking about - among other things - his dreams.

And then there is Brainbites... lots of socail comment on issues of the day - I agree with a lot of his views (tomorrow I may not - who knows. But he's okay today). A word of warning... there is the occasional swear word, so you may be offended... or you may not.

Write to me

George

The Hadron Collider

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The Hadron Collider
Has stopped – ‘cos a spider
Crawled deep down inside of the works.
It was looking for flies,
But to its surprise,
All it found there were quinks, quarks and querks.


That’s Clive: the “poet”. Remember him? He’s in here again: a recurrence of his PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
Sad case. He had a flat over a butcher’s in Rhyl. One night the shop caught fire. Clive is convinced it was arson, because the owner was English and it happened at that time when there was a lot of protest about English people owning holiday homes in Wales. I know you can hardly call a butchers’ shop a holiday home but Clive is adamant that the fire was started deliberately.
The place was like Dante’s Infirmary – as Clive puts it. Well, you can imagine, what with all that fat and grease. Clive was lucky to get out alive: he was carried to safety over a fireman’s shoulder. But ever since then he cannot walk past a butcher’s shop, he has to cross to the other side of the road. And he won’t eat meat. In fact, the reason he’s back in here is that he was at a wedding reception, a bit drunk, and someone handed him a ham sandwich. Before he realised, he had taken a bite, and that was that. It was like a recovering alcoholic having a whisky.

He tells me Freddie is treating him with this new EMDR therapy (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing.) In fact that was why Freddie was at the conference: The main speaker was Dr Francine Shapiro (Freddie calls her Frankie) who invented the treatment. According to Clive, “This bird discovered it when she was walking through a park.” Like she found it under a bush.
I don’t know what Clive is talking about – and I don’t think he does.

Anyway he spends his time in here going through the papers and making up verses about the headlines. Apparently he saw something in the Telegraph about them shutting down this Collider thing because some copper contacts were faulty. He thought the ‘spider’ explanation was much more interesting. I humour him.

I am currently reading “Shoot The Damn Dog”, a memoir of Sally Brampton’s journey through depression. Freddie is not sure I should be reading a book about depression – neither am I. But the first page hooked me: On that first page she says, “Life is about connection. There is nothing else.” Well, you sure spat a boot-full there, Sal.
I think she is right. This blog is about connection: the two of us connecting. But have you noticed, Anna that other people are reading our story? I don’t mind that, do you? In fact I am pleased – and rather honoured - that we have “followers”, that we are connecting with others, and sharing our thoughts and feelings. And it occurs to me that I should take this opportunity to thank them for their interest in two (for the moment) thwarted lovers.

One of our followers has a blog called “propoquerian” and I had a look at it, and also one by someone called “Lolita”. I am blown away (I believe this is to be the current vernacular) by the creativity and the quality of the writing. Have a look at them. They also have photographs – including a picture of the author. I feel our blog is lacking in this respect and that we should address the problem. But we have a dilemma: I don’t want to be identified as a psychiatric patient and you – well, you are not exactly "on the run" but your presence on this sceptre’d isle is not exactly kosher, is it? Still, I will try to think of something.

That was indeed an amusing incident on the bus. I wonder the man did not quote you the “Freedom of Copulation Act”. No, there isn’t such an act, Anna. Don’t bother to look it up.

Personally, I am not a devotee of pizza, but if pressed I would go for the thin rather than the thick crust. By the way, you toss a mean salad. This I remember from your days at Wynorin.

One final word about Sven. I do not owe your brother any money. It is very noble of him (now he is a born-again park warden) to let me off a debt I never incurred in the first place. Don’t think I am being pedantic but it is a matter of principle to me. So please, Anna, no more about this phantom debt.

I saw a compass in a magazine. It was a super looking thing; it had a couple of big dials around the rim, with “minutes” and stuff marked on them, and there was a light you could switch on when it got dark. I imagine it was the sort of thing the SAS would use. I was tempted, but I resisted. So you need not worry, Anna That watch is the last piece of military equipment I am going to buy.

I have much more to say but will leave it there for now.

Hoping we may one day have an incident on a bus.

George

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Whatever will next be happening in this strange country of the British Isles? This is what I ask of myself. Well, no, I ask Brian first because he it is who tells me of incident on late night bus.

Brian is driving last bus of night and looking forward to end of shift and returning home to delicious meal Anna have prepared for him. (This night was the pizza, delivered fresh by man on moped from ‘Pete’s Pizzas’ – with salad I make myself). Well, Brian happen to glance into mirror which is for safety reasons in keeping eye on passengers and making sure they are not breaking rules of bus company by smoking illegal cigarette or perhaps eating traditional British unhealthy meal of large packet of the greasy fish and chips, which stink out bus and have cleaners complaining to supervisor. Anyways, you may imagine surprise when he see two persons (male and female) indulging in sex act on rearmost seat of bus. (This is seat that go from one side of bus to other which make ideal for comfort while engaging in sexual act – not that I ever try this).



This is also to surprise, but great interest of only other passenger which is clerical gentleman, (perhaps vicar because he is wearing what you call the dog-collar). Brian is very considerate man but at same time has job to do. So he keep glancing in mirror until he think they finish. Then he stop bus. He give pause for the doing up of the clothing on these two, then he get out of his seat and go down bus, asking them in kindly manner if they aware of regulation which forbids the shagging on bus. The young man say -no, he is not aware of such rule. And woman retort – we’re in love, mate. Innit! Brian tells me that as he hear these words, tears come into his eyes as he is remembering Winston whom is now doing her Majesty’s pleasure. So he say - okay, but do not do this thing again on public transport
They thank him for his understanding (and also apologise to clerical gentleman who has missed his stop.) As they get off bus the youth deposit condom (which he has now finished with) in used-ticket box. Brian say this shows respect for keeping streets litter-free, but will get not please cleaners of bus.

I do not know why you worry so about money you owe to Sven. Do I not tell you Sven has said he no longer wants money since it is tainted with smell of sex?

I am sure all this thinking about death is not good for you, Georgie. I do not think about death because it is what happens to other people. Why do you not think about the living people – especially Anna and George? We got so much living to do, eh? Which is reminding me to say that if Freddie is at conference can you not persuade little Indian doctor to allow visit from Anna? You could say this would be most beneficial for recovery of yourself, especially if we could have time alone – say if private room – to discuss financial matters which cause you worry. Perhaps you tell him that if he do this good deed he jump up one caste in next life.

I do not know what you talk about with these little wooden dolls, nesting each inside of the other. Are you taking your medication?
Cannot wait to hear good news for visit.

Excited Anna

Monday, March 08, 2010

The flowers that bloom in the Spring...

**********************************************************

Dear Anna

Have you ever noticed how people turn into other people as they grow up? I wonder what happens to all those people who have been left behind. Do they still exist, nestling, like those Russian dolls, one inside the other? You may think this is a philosophical question, which need not delay us at this juncture – but I find it fascinating.

I am pleased to hear that Sven is doing well in his new job as park warden. This is an ideal career for the socially aware and the ecologically minded. And there is the added advantage, in the summer, of being able to observe at close quarters the young office girls, sunbathing in their lunch break. Also he will have the excuse to get up close on the pretence of spearing a piece of litter with his pointed stick. I expect they have given him one? They are standard issue for English park wardens and I would not expect Sweden to differ in this respect.

I must, however, vigorously challenge your brother’s allegation that I owe him money. Those videos were supplied to me on a “Sale or Return” basis. I could not sell them: the sound quality was atrocious and the sub-titles were in Swedish. As for returning them – how could I do that? Sven and his company had relocated – in a hurry – and left no forwarding address. In the end I dumped them on the municipal rubbish tip.

Do you ever think about death, Anna? I do, frequently. I mean it’s so final, isn’t it: one minute you’re there, next minute you’re gone. I was with my mother when she died. I was sitting by her bed and she was breathing gently, as if she were asleep. And suddenly I notice that the breathing had stopped. It was if she had just slipped away. But slipped away to where?
You would think that if God cared so much about us he would make us perennial – like the crocus,or the tulip: we would die – but come back next year. I’m not religious, as you know, but I asked Derek if he was. He said, ‘I’m a Catholic, but not a good one. I replied, ‘Well, I’m an Atheist, but not a good one.
Freddie is an atheist, but I suppose Dr Singh is religious, him being a Hindu. Don’t they have this caste system? You know, where you are born into a particular caste and you stay in it? Then if you are ‘good’ in this life you move up a caste in the next. (That’s why they believe in reincarnation: no social mobility in this life but chance of a better hand of cards in the next.) I suppose if you do badly in this life then you move down a caste in the next – a bit like a football team: do well this season and you get promoted next season; do badly and you’re relegated. Of course, if you are an ‘untouchable’ you can’t get any lower, so I don’t know how they deal with that one – I suppose it’s all written down in the Upanishads.
I’ve just had a thought: If you are an ‘untouchable’ does that mean you can’t get mugged?

I think it is okay to buy food in a packet, if it is from Marks & Spencer: a fine example of Jewish enterprise. My wife (ex wife) you may remember, used to work for them. They were very good to their staff: free hair-do’s, free dental treatment, a company chiropodist - plus all the staff-discounts. I don’t think you get all these perks now, though.

It is a lovely Spring day here. I shall shortly stroll around the grounds (like Mrs Robinson) and look if I can see any born-again flowers. And, of course, think of you!

Yours always

George

Saturday, March 06, 2010

So good to be hearing from you and knowing I have not offended to you. But you are sounding (though I cannot hear the voice) that you may presently be in the mood swing which is called manic after the down swing of depressive. I know about such things because I look up on Internet, as I am concerned about the state of your welfare in mental health. What I am saying is this, to be careful in this maniacal state that you do not do things which later you are regretful of. I am not saying the buying of military watch when you are not in military is causing problems, only not to continue spending plenty money to buy other military items which have no purpose for you. Because you are civilian.
Anyway, such is your own business.

What strange word is this ‘moggie’ which can be cat or mouse. This could never be in my language being of much more sensible usage. But never mind.
You are telling me previously of mad mama wanting to jump into big pond to drown self. Only really she not going to do this but you being small child do not know. Silly cow is this woman, even though she your mother. But you do not tell me about pillow. What is this incident with pillow?

Brian say he is happy to sleep on Japan bench. He say he snore and would awaken me if we share double bed. I do not know if he tells truth.

Piece of news I have for you which is telephone call from my brother. Sven is back in land of his birth and he tell me when ferry land he kiss ground – like Pope man do, only not for same reason I am thinking. But my brother tell me is reforming his character. No more the porn industry for him but more social caring job of warden in City Park. It is responsibility of Sven to see no one run off with small toddling children while they run and kick their balls on green grass, and lazy cows of mother sit and gabble on bench and passing too and fro the spliff what make them off their head and not giving bugger as to what is happen to their offspring.
Also is Sven’s job to shout at people what let their pet dog shit in unhygienic fashion on same green grass toddlers play on. He also give them ticket for fine if they curse him and do other unpleasantness to him when he is only doing job for which he is paid.
Sven also say to tell you he no longer require you to return to him large sum of money you owe to him, because money was got from porn industry for which Sven is now contemptible. (big word, eh? I always have M&S Dictionary plus book by Mr Roger by my side when I am typing to you in Internet Café, though other patrons look at me in funny way.)

For tonight supper I cheat and get food in packet from same M&S what supply dictionary. (such a fine and useful store). This is Chinese Banquet for two (which is me and Brian) and is costly but save having to bugger about chopping up all bits of different stuff like the vegetable and having go to funny shops and buy spices, and also have to wash and clean dead bird parts – UGH.
But do not worry that I remain for ever in flat of bus-driver Brian. Once my Georgie is well again from his mental diseases (which will be soon) then we find own flat – just for me and you.

Longing for such time

Anna

Friday, March 05, 2010

HAVE NO FEAR – GEORGE IS HERE.

*************************************************************

No, Anna, you have done nothing to offend; it is simply that I have had a couple of days of a ‘downer’.

Freddie has been at a conference and Doctor Singh (you remember him? Old Etonian, Hindu?) had a talk with me.
‘I’m not increasing my medication.’ I said.
‘My dear chap,’ He always calls me that. ‘I would not dream of asking you to. You know that, in some sense, I am a neo-Laingian rather than a post-Freudian.’
‘Well, as my mother used to say,’ I quipped, ‘it takes all sorts.’
‘What did she mean by that?’ asked a puzzled Dr S.
‘I have no idea. She had all sorts of funny sayings.’
‘Can you give me an example?’
I thought for a bit. ‘Well, if she was a bit stressed – she was often stressed - she might say, “I wish I was a moggie and the cat had me.”, and another one was “It won’t always be dark at four o clock.”’
'What is a moggie?'
'Well, for most people it is a cat, but my mother always called a mouse a moggie.'
‘Didn’t your mother once threaten to throw herself in the lake?’
‘Reservoir.’ I corrected.
‘How old were you at the time?’
‘I suppose I must have been four or five – it was before my dad went into the Air Force.’
‘That must have been pretty scary for you. To hear your mum say that, I mean.’
‘It was. I can remember looking up and seeing two grown ups – there may have been three – shouting at each other. And I somehow felt responsible… not responsible for what it was all about – I didn’t understand what it was about – but responsible for doing something , doing something to make everything all right. But I didn’t know what to do.’
‘But how could you know what to do? You were only four.’ Replied Dr Singh. He then went of to ask me to tell him (again) about the incident of the pillow.

But enough of this, Anna..

I have bought myself a watch. A Swiss Army Watch. It was an ‘offer’ in the Daily Telegraph (I do read other newspapers, too: The Independent, The Times, and the social workers parish magazine : The Guardian. I wanted to cheer myself up. It is very nice; it has a luminous dial – well I suppose you would need that in the army since they must do a lot of their work in the dark.
I showed it to Derek (the self-harmer) and he said, ‘What do you want that for? You’re not in the Swiss Army.’
I said, ‘No, but if I ever join, I will already have the watch.’
‘But that’s silly.’ He replied. ‘If you joined they would give you a watch – along with one of those special penknives.’
‘Ah, but you see, I figure that if I already have the watch they will give me an extra bit of kit instead: like another pair of boots, or a shirt’

Derek lost interest. I can’t say I blame him.

Anyway, how are you, my love? You seem to be quite settling in chez Brian. Well, don’t get too comfortable! Your future lies with George, not some gay bus-driver.

I will close now as I have had a recurrence of the old IBS and have been ensconced in the thunder-box for most of the morning. This has delayed me, and I have much to do today. I see by my Swiss Army Watch that the time is 1.27pm - I shall be late on parade.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Your ever loving

George

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

I do not hear from you Georgie.

I hope you are not offensive with me?

Talk to me.

Anna

Monday, March 01, 2010

Oh Georgie.

What must you be thinking of me? I apologise unreversably for the crudely suggestions I make in my last post. I know my speaking is often earthly but that is just my way of telling things how I see them. And also because I love you and do not wish to get you hurt through you being still the naïve person. But I can see how such words may be offensive on ears of English peoples – of which you are one – and so I say again, please forgive for me the direct speaking and not mincing up the words like you English do, but not criticising for that.
And also, am glad you saving love for me.

Anyway it is good you got computer stuff fixed. I still use the Internet café because Brian’s connecting is of the dial-up and cannot be arsed waiting for the bugger to start up. Sorry, there I am once more using the earthly language, but I remind you that there have been certain times you wish me to use such language (if you get my meaning - you naughty boy.) and hope you will in the future which is not too far away.

Today Brian is to take me on a day out in Purley because it is time off for him. He will show me sights of town like historical places of interest and culture. Also we shall be having light lunch at little teashop which is owned by two gentlemen friends of Brian. One is called Clive but I have forgotten name of other one.

Please write soon to tell me you forgive me. Not for going on town with Brian but for reason of unseemly speech in writing post. But please remember English proverb what says – spade is to be called spade, and not shovel.

Love you

Anna