My relationship with John Wayne

Last night I remembered I’d left John Wayne on the roof. Apologies for that, John, but thanks for another good job.

John and I first became acquainted back in 1980 when I had a five hour operation on my spine. I was scared and thought how John had been so brave in his final months which was why I was thinking of him as I floated away under the aneasthetic.

I woke in a side ward. The nurse said they’d moved me from post-op because I was making so much noise, sharing a bottle of red-eye with John Wayne.

Since then I’ve called upon him when needed. I visualise him looking after the house when we are away. That’s why he was on the roof. Last week I left him lying on the ridge tiles, squinting into the sunshine with his rifle at his side. And, when we arrived home, I meant to say thank-you for looking after the place but I forgot until yesterday. So I thanked him profusely and allowed him to de-materialise, until next time.

Noise sensitive

Did you read the recent report about people who get irritated by the sound of others eating or even breathing being geniuses? I did and am now claiming to be a genius (not that any other signs have shown themselves). I am, and always have been noise sensitive. I also happen to have acute hearing.

How do I know this? For a short while I had an extremely well paid job which involved wearing a flying helmet and sitting in a sound-proofed room. Whilst wearing headphones I had to listen to words being transmitted over the sound of a Harrier jump jet and then click the correct words on a computer. Half the women in the area applied for the job but only a dozen of us passed the very strict hearing test. 

And now the noise from a house being built next to us is driving me mad so the LSO has booked a cottage for us to escape to for a few days peace, starting tomorrow. Hence this blog post appearing a day early. When I realised I might not have wifi where we are going I very speedily knocked out this post. It’s easy enough to do when you’re a genius.

Good words. Bad words.

As a writer I love words and I like listening in to other people's unless they say mumfs instead of months. The sound gets turned of for one advert when this is said.

Here’s another amusing mis-use of words in Sub-titles -

Steel salad allergy = day of solidarity

And those foreign emails that want us to open attachments or send bank details are always mis-spelled but they can make me laugh. I love this one so much I may use it myself  –

'I hope this email finds you in a faultless condition.'

And finally I like inspirational words, especially those from tut.com

‘Don’t be afraid to go where you’ve never gone and do what you’ve never done because both are necessary to have what you’ve never had and be who you’ve never been.’

April Giggle Blog

We were at book club. The relationships between the scores of characters in the book were complex and every time a new character was mentioned someone would ask, ‘Who’s that?’

At this point Dot would take out a large sheet of folded paper, carefully unfold it, run her finger down a list and give us the information. ‘Oh, he was married to X and their children were A, B and C.’ She would then refold the paper and put it back in her bag until someone asked, ‘Remind me, who was J?’

Out would come Dot’s ‘tree’ as she called it and she would give us the details. Each time she opened out the tree we’d laugh. The book is set in Afghanistan so the characters were called names like Abdullah, Saboor, Masooma, Roshi, Timur…

And then someone mentioned Eric. ‘Who’s Eric?’ we all screamed and from there it all went downhill -

because it was such a normal name 

because Dot had taken out her tree again

because we were all a bit hysterical by then.

It wasn’t so much a giggle that afternoon as an eyes-streaming, stomach-aching uproar.

And from Sue Blackburn

Mum and I were in that well known chemist doing a bit of shopping.

"I need toilet rolls," she told me.

We couldn't find them so we collared a member of staff.

"Could you tell us where the toilet rolls are please?" Mum asked her.

"Down the bottom end," was her reply.

Magic!