*************************************************
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.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
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
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
***********************************************
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.
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
*******************************************************
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
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.
****************************************************
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
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
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
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
****************************************************
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
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
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