july film and book review

FILMS

FIRED UP! (2009) d-Will Gluck. One of those films that appeal to the sort of teen boys who probably liked Roadtrip and American Pie, but this is in fact quite well written and curiously enjoyable.
LES ENFANTS TERRIBLE (1953) d-Jean-Paul Melville (written by Jean Cocteau) A young man takes to his bed for reasons unclear. His possessive sister colludes, and brings another girl and boy into the bizarre mix of personalities. A strange, frightening and quite stunning piece of movie making. They seriously do not make them like this any more...
ARMY OF SHADOWS (1969) d-J-P Melville. A grim account of the French Resistance as the end of the war approaches and both German and French participants become steadily more brutal. Disturbing stuff.
ROLE MODELS (2008) d- David Wain. 2 losers are assigned as carers to a couple of kids who don't really need them, and indeed end up helping the "carers" more than vice versa. Moderately entertaining.
THE OPPOSITE SEX (1956) d- David Miller. Joan Collins as the gorgeous gold-digger who gets her comeuppance in the end. She's never looked better.
THE LAST CASTLE (2001) d-Rod Lurie. Robert Redford plays his favourite role- the good guy against an inhuman establishment, this time represented by James Gandolfini as the prison warder who gets rings run around him. Implausible, but somehow watchable.
X MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE.(2009) d- Gavin Hood. I think I'd have preferred "X Men 4" but this will do at a pinch. The fight scenes are terrific, but the rest is a bit dull, really.
GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (2009) d- Niels Arden Oply. The film they had to make, like they had to make Da Vinci Code. Our video shop told us that several people brought it back, disgusted when they found it was subtitled. And not apparently, because it's a bit pedestrian, which it is.
DOWN BY LAW (1986) d- Jim Jarmusch. Beautiful piece from Jarmusch, which comes over a lot like an early Fellini film, say, La Strada or Nights in Cabiria; this feeling doubtless augmented by the presence of the marvellous Roberto Begnini.
THE IRON GIANT (2007) d-Brad Bird. Very good adaptation of Ted Hughes's story. Perfect for a ten year old, and not bad for me either.
BELLEVILLE RENDEZ-VOUS (2003) w-d- Sylvan Chomet. Very funny, and superbly animated feature about a Tour de France rider kidnapped by evil gambling interests. Highly recommended.

BOOKS

THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, by Stieg Larson. I like to read at least one book a year that absolutley everybody else is reading, so it sort of had to be this one. And I have to say it is a passable thriller, and the character of Lizbeth Salander ("the girl") is a powerful creation. So I suppose you might want to give it a try.
LIGHT THICKENS, by Ngaio Marsh. Inspector Alleyn walks the boards, as it were, as he shakes the murderer out from a theatre company engaged in putting on a production of Macbeth. There's lots of fascinating material about the Scottish Play itself, mixed into the plot throughout the book, and the whole is indeed very satisfying.
LORD JIM, by Joseph Conrad. A strange, and apparently at the time of its publishing, somewhat controversial method is deployed, namely one character telling the entire story to some friends.It takes a while to get used to it, but once there, a superlative tale unfolds, of Jim's disgrace, rehabilitation and ultimate atonement. Superior stuff.

scream babies

When I arrived home at lunchtime today, the screams and yells from the nursery next door were approaching new heights of hideous cacophony, so I rang the owner, who unfortunately did not pick up. Had she done so, I would have said something like:
"The other day I did actually hear one of your staff trying to encourage the children to play more quietly, but this is still very much the exception. During the warm weather people tend to keep their windows open for fresh air, but then the din from next door penetrates every room in the house. Could you please ask your people to think about this a little more?"
I've tried this tack in the past, and it works, but only for a short time. But I do know that one of my own neighbours has also complained about the noise, so we may get somewhere this time. You never know...

COMMENT
I ALMOST LIKE DAVID CAMERON NOW

I've been quite impressed by our PM's utterances of late. He has admitted than we are very much the "junior partner" when it comes to Anglo-American relations; he has openly criticised the Israelis for their blockade of Gaza, and he has taken Pakistan to task for its overt alliance with the "West" while maintaining its covert friendly relations with the West's enemies, the Taliban.

But to illustrate how complex politics are in south-west Asia, the former Pakistani cricketer and opposition party MP Imran Khan pointed out on the BBC today that Pakistan has suffered more bombings than any other country on Earth last year: over 500. How to solve this horrific conundrum? There is no easy way, though I can't help thinking that getting the foreign occupiers out of Afghanistan ASAP might be a constructive beginning...

beware this sign

About a month ago a man in his 70s came with a classical sign: alternating constipation and diarrhoea. I first learned this sign as being a reliable indicator of bowel cancer in my third year at medical school. First as a junior house surgeon, then later as a GP, time after time, I learnt the grim significance of this sign. It implies that the lumen, or inner bore, of the large intestine is narrowed, and there are very few other things that do this.

I sent him for an ultrasound scan of his abdomen and today it has come back: not only a definite cancer in his lower colon but, much more ominously, a huge secondary growth in his liver. It is this latter that will kill him, by hepatic failure, which is not such a bad death; I saw my own wife die in precisely this way after her breast cancer spread to her liver. You just drift gently away, with a minimum of pain, finally lapsing into a "liver coma", as the toxins the liver usually filter from the blood gradually accumulate in the circulation. This is what will certainly be his fate, but how long will he last? Will he see Christmas, or fade away even quicker than that? Time, as they say, will tell...

I'm like that, and that's the way it is

One of my city walks takes me over a motorway, and today I found a small group, an older woman, a teenage girl and a couple of younger children on the bridge, waving at the vehicles passing beneath. Occasionally a driver would acknowledge them with a toot on the horn. I went up to them and, addressing the older lady, made the point that while what they were doing was sweet, the reality was that their actions were taking the driver's eyes away from the road, and that this could be potentially dangerous. I don't think I've ever seen a group of people take on a crestfallen look quite so abruptly before.

"Look, I'm not trying to rain on your parade or anything, but I just thought it was important to mention it"
"So you mean we could be a distraction?"
"Precisely so, yes"
I left them to it, and as they receded, I could see they were still doing it, though when I returned a few minutes later they had gone. I might have added that I hate seeing people standing on a bridge which I have to drive under, because I always fear they're going to throw something at the cars passing beneath, or enact some other mischief, and am always relieved when I get through without incident. That's just me, I guess...

fertility issues

A young woman comes to see me today asking for advice about getting pregnant. The darling girl is only 18, and has been trying for less than 6 months. I tell her first of all not to worry.
"If you lock a perfectly healthy man and woman is a cupboard and let them out after a year, there is still a less than 50% chance of the woman becoming pregnant"
I educate her a little about predicting the time of ovulation, but then emphasise the importance of a relaxed attitude. Sometimes the more stressed about getting pregnant a woman is, the less likely she is to achieve what she wants. I close with these remarks:
" The fact is, a man meets a woman. They find each other unbearably attractive and do something about it
. That's how babies are made. So just go out there and enjoy yourselves"

media stich-up avoided?

An unusual occurrence this morning. I get a call from a producer with ITV. They're running a programme on skin cancer, and one of their contributors reported that he had come to our practice 5 years ago, where we apparently failed to refer him for his cancer. Would I like a right of reply? I said I thought I might decline that offer, though I appreciated being informed. I got their promise our practice would not be named, and left it at that. I'm not absolutely certain the story is true in every detail. I know patients do not always get their stories right, for a variety of reasons.
Gore Vidal once said, "never pass up the opportunity, either to have sex, or appear on television", but I think I made the right decision this time, his advice notwithstanding.

COMMENT

The Guardian today is full of Wikileak's revelations about how the war in Afghanistan is really waged by the Americans. There are few surprises. The Afghan people have been invaded many times over their turbulent history.(even the Brits had their go in the 19th century and that all ended in tears) They don't like it, and become increasingly ingenious in their methods of expelling the invader. They've found a way round the enemy's superior fire-power, and they'll soon find a way round that most pernicious of modern war machines, the unmanned drone. Inevitably the invaders will leave in shame and humiliation because they, unlike their opponents, lack the spirit for a real fight.

tour de sunday

Following a relatively late night, we allowed ourselves a lengthy lie-in this morning. Then, after a lunch of filled potato skins we settled down for the final day of the Tour. Amazing to see the burst of speed the Brit Mark Cavendish achieved to win the final sprint. All in all I think I can say that this year's Tour has been highly enjoyable, and has answered its critics who have said it has had its day.

Waiting for the bright sunshine to wane a little; at around 5 o'clock I mowed the lawn, almost extraordinarily, for the first time in 7 weeks. And I can't remember doing that since 1990.

glasses- gone

This morning, we took on the huge vine which has thoughtfully remained attached to the garden wall for years until the last couple of weeks, when it has fallen forward quite alarmingly. I took on the task of getting underneath it, gathering as much as possible of it into my arms before pushing it all back into its rightful position. Once there it could be secured to the wall once again with garden twine.

I performed the lift, hefting it back against the wall while I seemed to be encased in its tendrils. After a few moments I noticed that these very tendrils had somehow entwined themselves around my glasses, and lifted them off my face so subtly I hadn't notice a thing.

Being semi-blind at this point I enlisted the services of the my normally-sighted wife. I pruned one limb after another in search of the elusive spectacles, every move I made taken with enormous care to avoid crushing them (they cost £400, after all). Soon a huge pile of pruned foliage had grown on the lawn, while the vine itself was so denuded it no longer mattered where it draped itself. But no glasses. More minutes went past sorting through all the fronds and branches, before she spotted them at the very bottom of the pile - meaning that they must have placed there first. Fortunately, they appeared unscathed.

This evening to our black-and-white masked party, to celebrate on our friend's 30th birthday. Many familiar faces were there. to the point where the masks did not present a problem of recognition. It's good to be out with the young folks. I held court of a modest sort for much of the time, which was rather delightful. My wife, however, stole the show by being the last guest to remove their mask. And it was very fetching too, I must say. A dark grey, scowling Batman, masked avenger. You go, girl!

money talks

GPs derive a large amount of their income via the "QOF"- Quality and Outcomes Framework" which is a complex series of targets in the area of health monitoring for a whole range of conditions: the healthy, diabetes, hypertension, heart disease and so on. It's hard work simply keeping up with all the changes constantly being announced by the health authorities. Today the 3 partners got together for a 90 minute run through of how best to implement the latest round of data gathering. I hate this sort of thing, but there's no option. Failure to do the job properly can cost us thousands. So we sit it out, trying to remember it all, hoping it won't be to onerous in the event.

Tomorrow, a big party: a masked ball in black and white, no less. I've already bought my mask, so I'm pretty smug, especially as I've also got the necessary B and W stuff. But the wife for once is less well organised. Knowing her though, she'll be there in style when it comes to it. I'll keep you informed...

double take

Coming down a steep mountain path towards the end of one of my walks today, I heard someone behind me on the verge of overtaking. I turned to look at the speedy perambulator and received a tremendous shock: an elderly man, stocky build, heavily, but pleasantly lined face with twinkling blue eyes, topped out by a flat cap. Basically, a quite remarkable ringer for my dad. It was such a shock I literally jumped. He apologised for startling me, and I explained why. My dad died 6 years ago, and one of my tasks was to identify his body when it had been returned to the UK, so I shouldn't have been so amazed. But death is a funny thing sometimes...

Watching the Tour de France later this afternoon on Eurosport, I was treated to an absolutely terrific piece of television as the 2 leaders, only 8 seconds separating them at the beginning of the day, battled it out relentlessly up the Col du Tournamet in the Pyrenees. Neither would give an inch, or even a millimetre, psyching each other out with hostile stares and glances all the way up that formidable climb. There is little love lost between the two: 2 days ago the Luxemburger Andy Schleck, holding a narrow lead at the time, lost his chain, and Alberto Contador of Spain unsportingly seized his advantage to attack- an action which prompted jeers from the crowd when donning his yellow jersey at the end of the day's racing. This incident has already entered the mythology of the Tour as "Chaingate"

Brilliant stuff!

what's the story?

School holidays have begun, marking a glorious 6 week interval where traffic densities in the mornings and evenings are down by anything up to 40%, and surgeries are also noticeably quieter than usual. There is also less pressure of housecalls; indeed, last year we went 3 full weeks in August without a single request: please may it be so this year.

This afternoon I finished off my new story. It comes in at 2850 words, which is slightly longer than I originally intended, but still acceptable, I believe, to potential publishers, if it ever gets that far. At present I am just deriving a lot of pleasure from creating them.

weather break

In the last few days the weather has been overcast, warm and humid. Today it has properly broken, with a sustained "pulse" of rain, as the weather people like to describe it. I'm so old now I'm inclined to say something like "well, it'll be good for the garden", though actually what I'd really like to see is July live up to all the preceding months from February, which have been the warmest and driest since 1929. I do note, however, that there was a little rain 0n 15th July, St Swithen's day, so maybe the good summer is over. I hope not.

This afternoon, a 95 year old man somehow staggered in to the surgery to see me from the OPH he finds himself incarcerated in against his wishes. I have not met him before, and my initial assessment suggests he probably cannot support himself at home, but the poignancy of his case is almost agonising.

"What have you got to say, doctor?" he asks at the end of the consultation.

"I'd say you're doing fine, sir" I reply.

and yet she comes

Housecalls are becoming an endangered species in general practice. Hence a request for a home visit to a young woman with acute anxiety symptoms is turned down by me, several times in fact in the course of a long phone call with her. She tried hard, but I was unmoved. I offered an emergency slot whenever she wanted one, but no, I would not be going out there. I felt sure she wouldn't show, but she did, at 3 o'clock this afternoon. I thank her profusely for coming in, and we have a long chat about her various, more or less insoluble, life problems. I offer anti-depressants, which she accepts, and arrange to see her again in 2 weeks. I even give her my latest toy, a questionnaire to measure the extent of her depression. Her score is almost off the scale..

As so often on these occasions, I feel an overwhelming sense of impotence, unable to make any real difference to her life. But the event is soon swept away in the general tide of other patients I have to see that afternoon...

day of repose

A long, indulgent lie-in this morning. To show willing, my wife goes for a swim. I do a session with my hand weights instead, and follow that up (after a decent interval) with a 20 minute jugging practice. I've taken up 3 and 4 balls again after a lengthy gap, because I have a plan to do a show in Bethlehem in the autumn for the orphans my wife has been working with.

It is also my intention to visit the wall at first light to entertain the wretched Palestinian workers, who, in their hundreds every day, have to queue sometimes for hours every day to get into Jerusalem for their work, and then again to get home at the end of the day. The Israelis seem to want to make it as difficult or humiliating for them as possible, as we might expect from a brutal occupying power.

Normally I would have a patter while presenting my act, though this will not be possible here, so I am giving some thought as to exactly how I should do it. But I know one thing, juggling, "natural magic" as it also called, is an international language.

busy old saturday

I'm feeling like I really needed this break, even though I had Monday of this week off, in theory making the week something of a breeze, as that is my busiest day. I suppose it shows how much pressure I am under at the moment. Or at least feeling, anyway.

But I was able to relax today, and did lots of little things: spot of pruning in the garden, sweeping the drive, even working on a new short story. Once again I'm trying to get it in at under 2500 words, so hopefully it won't take that long to finish. Well, the first draught at least.

acute retention of pain

I was asked to see someone at home today who gave the report of being unable to PU (Pass Urine) for more than 12 hours. I found him in terrible pain with a bladder swollen right up to his umbilicus (normally, even a full bladder will not even rise out of the pelvis). I arranged for immediate admission, where he will be catheterised and experience a miraculous and almost instant relief of his pain.

Normally this condition is due to prostatic enlargement, and so in theory is something to which all men are potentially susceptible. Having seen the awful agonies experienced by the hapless men who have it, it is a condition I particularly dread. I think most of all I would fear being admitted to hospital, ageing, infirm and in extreme pain, but then the blessed process of catheterisation being delayed interminably by some sort of administrative difficulty. I'd love to tell you things like this are rare occurrences; however I have to tell you that they are not. I hope to God it doesn't happen to this bloke.

gulls gone

I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but the gulls have vanished. I noticed almost as soon as we returned home on Sunday afternoon: I was not immediately mobbed on venturing out into the garden, and no gull was to be found inhabiting the redoubts on the tops of the houses. Then on Monday I saw a neighbour who told me a dead chick, aged perhaps 3 months, was found in the back alley some time over the weekend (cause of death: unknown). And clearly with that, the gulls had evacuated to a more appropriate billet on the coast. I am sad in a way to hear of the chick's demise, but happy that peace has been restored to our neighbourhood.

Under grey and rainy skies I went out to visit my mum this afternoon, who, though remaining quite anxious about her upcoming holiday, had managed to pack and include all the essentials, including the famous sine qua nons, namely:
TICKETS
MONEY
PASSPORT
These are the only things absolutely required for a successful holiday, and she remembered them. All else may be begged, borrowed or bought, except of course for peace of mind, which is a much more elusive commodity. She tells me that what with all the worry this time, she will never take another foreign holiday, which I am rather relieved to hear (though I seem to recall that I have heard it before) It sounds sad, but then she has travelled extensively throughout the world and seen many of its wonders. So confining herself to the British mainland ain't such a bad thing, really. To say nothing of it being a lot greener...

Now all I have to fear is the dreaded call from the cruise-ship to inform me that something has gone terribly wrong. Please God it will not happen. But, as they say, I've got a bad feeling about it...

no nurse=more work

I have been psyching myself up for this day for some weeks. Today I had to do the baby clinic without the assistance of my practice nurse, thereby increasing my workload by getting on for 70%. Thus, instead of finishing at 3.45 pm, it was more like 5.20 before I could go home, by which point I was too tired to take my car to the car wash to remove the thick layer of dust it had accumulated from the sandblasting going on next door. They might have advised me to move my car, at least...

COMMENT

A new phrase has apparently entered our language: "recreational rioting"- the term now used to describe the recrudescence of troubles in north Belfast. Children as young as 8 have been seen hurling stones at the police, while their older brothers have heaved heavier implements; petrol and blast bombs, as well as charging the police lines with huge iron bars. The term "recreational rioting" implies that the participants are there purely to have fun, but is not the truth that these disturbances followed on directly from Orangeman parades? They were deliberately routed through catholic areas, in a manner surely intended to provoke, to "rub their noses in it", as it were, and to remind the catholic minority (as if they needed any reminding) who is really still in charge, despite the power-sharing agreement.

All marches by one sectarian group through the heart of the other should have been banned long ago, and the fact they haven't underlines my assertion that the protestant community still pulls the important strings in Northern Ireland.

mum related anxiety

Upon our return home from Amsterdam on Sunday I phoned my mum, who is going away herself in a few days, to see if she was recovering from last week's troubles. But she still sounded low and her old confidence was clearly not yet restored. So I phoned again this morning and arranged to see her before she leaves for her Norwegian cruise at the end of the week. Will she be well enough to go, however? Is this all just a bit of "nerves", or am I really witnessing her slow-motion implosion? Is she approaching the point where she says she wants to live in an OPH?

I now begin to fear this may be the beginning of the end for her, unless of course she stages one of her famous rallies. We'll just have to see if she's got it in her to pick herself up and make her holiday happen.

world cup reflections

Of late I have allowed myself an extra day off following the end of any holiday I take, which enables me to re-adjust to life at home. A very civilised practice, I must say.

Allow me one or two thoughts on the late World Cup. As we have seen, my prescience does not warrant any particular confidence: I was sure, for instance, that Germany would win, then once they had been defeated I then became convinced it would be Holland's turn at last. But they, like every other casualty of Spain's brilliant campaign, suffered the "death by a thousand passes"

Word on the street (and by this I mean my cleaning ladies) has it that Holland deserved to lose because they "played dirty" and if yellow cards are anything to go by, they are not wrong. Also we all witnessed that horrible foul where one of the Dutch players (I don't recall his name) actually launched a flying drop-kick straight into the chest of an opponent. A heavy blow to the centre of the chest can sometimes stop the heart, so this was an extremely dangerous move, to say nothing of lying somewhere outside the code of practice, not just of football, but of any reasonable human conduct.

BEST GOALS

Carlos Tevez (Argentina vs Mexico)- an amazing strike from nearly 30 yards out that never got above 2 feet in height all the way

Van Bronkhorst (Holland vs Uruguay)- an astonishing goal from nearer 40 yards that rocketed into the back of the net at getting on for 80 MPH

Diego Forlan (Uruguay vs Germany) an incredible side-footed effort that spoke eloquently of his unequalled athleticism and dexterity. He has been rightly chosen as "man of the tournament"

MOST AGONISING MOMENT

Ghana just missing that penalty on the stroke of full time. Just awful.

QUIRKY MOMENT

My wife and I became unaccountably fascinated by the name of the German playmaker Schweinsteiger (apparently it means "pig handler") and in the semi-final we counted the number of times we heard his name mentioned during the match. Answer: 22. Why did we do it? Christ knows.

STRANGEST MOMENT

The Nigerian government, deeply miffed at their team's poor performance, threatens to bar them from international competition. Outraged, FIFA demands they withdraw their ban, or they themselves will, wait for it, ban them from international competition. Wah?

viva espana, I guess

So they have done it at last, and poor Holland is destined once again to be the reluctant bridesmaid. After 3 days in the Netherlands I had become quite indoctrinated to the idea of a northern European victory; therefore I find myself a little dejected at this moment.

But I am pleased at my photos, especially an extraordinarily lucky capturing of a lightning strike. Normally a tripod and great patience are required for this feat, as you can never be quick enough on the shutter to record the flash you see, but this tine I was simply so slow catching one flash that I caught the next one entirely by accident. Well, I've had so many great pictures that didn't quite work for whatever reason, that maybe I'm due one that did. Thanks, random laws of the universe...

anne, frankly

We were worried we might be stuck in a long queue before gaining access to Anne Frank's house, as the hour's time lag made us wake up at a quarter-past nine. In the event however, the wait was barely half an hour and we were in. Once inside, the queue extended right around the tortuous route through the many rooms of the house, and as nearly all the furniture had been removed to allow for the immense tides of visitors that throng on a daily basis, the tour turned out to be an atmosphere-stunted procession through a series of empty rooms. Most moving for me were the famous door that passed as a bookcase, and the little marks on one wall where little Anne's height was recorded over that critical 2 year period.

I had resolved to buy a copy of "The Diary of a Young Girl" at the (inevitable) gift shop, though baulked at the idea of paying 12.50 euros for a book that was clearly marked as being for sale in the UK at 8.99 sterling. I'm sorry, Otto, but that's a step too far even for me. I'll score it off Amazon when I get back at half that, probably...

reporting from the Netherlands

Greetings from the airport where, courtesy of my wife's iPhone I am writing my blog. I'm under pressure to finish up ASAP as she wants to facebook her 50- odd "friends" (that's not 50 odd friends)- and exchange meaningless blather. (apologies to her, but she ia aware I've never been known for my milk of human kindness)

Capitalism is the art of making people believe they need something that in fact they do not and in this context Steve Jobs must be 1 of the most successful capitalists the world has ever seen. I would rant at more length, but my wife won't let me. Watch this blog for more ranting...

by the skin of my tooth

Hoorah! It is saved! Turns out part of the tooth remnant had cracked and was creaking (agonisingly) each time it was touched. So the tooth can be restored with a crown. Today a temporary filling was emplaced, leaving me with that familiar funny taste and smell in my mouth, but allowing me to eat normally, and more importantly, tide me over our upcoming 3 day sojourn in Amsterdam. We leave tomorrow.

We have done Amsterdam a couple of times, and seen all the big things, so this time we shall have a day out in the Hague, checking its famous museum and many medieval houses. Back in Amsterdam I suppose we could also see Anne Frank's house, which is only just down the road from our hotel, and somewhere I haven't previously visited. I will not stand in a queue for hours, however, so it may not happen. For reasons that remain obscure to me, her story has become one of the most celebrated of the 20th century, and she has become a deathless icon of unfulfilled potential.
Oh, maybe that's the reason...

eat with care

After my son died nearly 4 years ago, my teeth started falling out: I lost 4 in the next 2 years. Since then I have been fortunate in avoiding any further trouble. But last week, just after my vomiting bout, I noticed one of my few remaining molars on the upper right had become heat sensitive, and it soon began to ache continuously. I am off to the dentist tomorrow to see if repair work can be carried out on the (doubtless) cracked filling. But I know that it is mostly filling anyway, and the chances of him having no option but to abandon it are high. And it's on the left, the side I have had to use exclusively for eating for the last 2 years. So this is a potentially serious situation.

Wish me luck...

After my evening meal (noodles, stir-fry vegetables and a veggie burger) has been eaten with tremendous care to avoid sudden spasms of severe pain, we shall settle down to watch the Netherlands vs Uruguay match. Tell me something: how come a country with a population barely that of Wales consistently produces a world class football team? Could it simply be that they do not suffer from the same sort of blue funk our "golden generation" of players seem to suffer every time they're passed the ball? I'm open to suggestions. In fact, so are the England team. Desperately.

unwell, apparently

On checking my post at work today, I find 3 letters from our local A and E (Accident and Emergency)department. On each, though there are many categories in which medical information may be entered, each contains only one word, neatly typewritten:

"UNWELL"

Now I'm all in favour of keeping medical notes concise and to the point, but quite frankly this is ludicrous. I phone the consultant in charge of A and E, and miraculously I am put through without delay. I explain what has happened, and he is somewhat sheepish, and following what amounts to an abject apology, promises to send more useful information soonest. Well, that would be nice...

bovver gulls

We are currently under attack from the air. A squabble of renegade seagulls have moved in to our neighbourhood, and have taken to occupying strategic positions on the gable ends of our house and the ones nearby. From these redoubts they scan the gardens, looking for signs of movement, and if they do so a furious mobbing ensues, like some avian Stuka attack. Those dive-bombers were equipped with sirens to increase panic on the ground, and these are too.

In fact their incessant caw-cawing is even more of a problem, as they often start up at 3 o'clock in the morning. After a week of this, the cats are scared to go out in the garden, while we're getting sleep-deprived. Presumably they have built a nest somewhere abouts, and the poor darlings are only protecting their young, so disapproval seems almost churlish in the circumstances.

Even so, they would do well to complete their chick-rearing process with a degree of haste, or I shall be forced to purchase an air rifle.

DR PELAHIUS'S NEW HIGHWAY CODE

GIVING WAY

The new basic guideline is, don't: make the other guy give way for you.

EXAMPLES

1. Where there is a traffic calming road narrowing, when traffic from one direction gives way to traffic from the other. This is now superceded by: which ever vehicle is closest, has right of way.
2. Where there is a hazard on your side of the road. Now the rule has changed to: which ever vehicle can force their way through first has the right of way. This process is assisted by having a large vehicle, such as a van, pick-up or SUV.

ADDENDUM: Traffic lights

Cyclists.

NEW RULE: Traffic lights don't apply to cyclists

Safe driving! And always remember, you are probably a much better driver than nearly everyone else you meet on the road.

deutschland uber argentina

And then some. What a performance by the krauts! A brick wall at the back, always dangerous on the counter attack: such consummate professionalism - you are looking at the soon-to-be world champions, I fancy. Who can stand in the way of their blitzkrieg?

My mother is creating her own little drama at home. I was relieved to find her a little better yesterday, but she phoned this morning as sorry for herself as ever, allegedly still racked with vertigo and vomiting. Eventually she is taken to the local out-of-hours centre, where they are sufficiently concerned to admit her, at least for an assessment. This, I thought, was what she wanted, but, within an hour the ward calls me to announce that she says she's feeling better and wishes to discharge herself against medical advice. They are none to pleased, as might be expected. Doctors don't take kindly to having their advice ignored, and people who do usually get their card marked as troublemakers. Thing is, she's slowly losing her faculties, and this may be behind her inability to make a good decision.

On reflection, thus has always been the way with her. For as long as I can remember, she has manipulated situations for reasons best known to herself, and often caused complications in the lives of those around her. My mum, folks...

murray: too good to hurry

This morning, 75% recovered from my own enteritis, I go out to the coast to visit my mum, who, though several days further into her episode has still yet to rally. She sounded more or less weak and pathetic on the phone, but on arrival some encouraging words and a bowl of spring vegetable soup prepared in her microwave, seems to have brought about an improvement of sorts.

So I return home and watch magnificent Murray crash against the impenetrable rock that is Rafael Nadal. Poor Murray: Henman came to his best years just when Sampras did the same; it emerges now that Nadal will be Murray's nemesis in the same way- maybe someone could do a Tonya Harding on him the next time? I suspect it will be the only way he will get past an opponent with an embarrassment of riches in his game, not the least of which is the greatest forehand of all time.

june book and film review

Apologies for being a day late with my monthly review. The reasons may be found in yesterday's blog, kindly provided by Mrs Pelagius. I am pleased to report some improvement today. Yesterday saw 10 bouts of diarrhoea and 12 of vomiting, and though the symptoms receded somewhere around 10 PM, I now find myself feeling weak and shaky; hardly surprising in the circumstances. I shall take tomorrow off work too; hopefully by Monday I should be fully recovered.

BOOKS

ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Some call it the ultimate example of "magic realism"; certainly this is a uniquely hypnotic and wonderfully strange book, where the dead come back to tantalise the living and statues rise into the air to make a point. Marvellous.
EMMA, by Jane Austen. Tremendously famous icon of English literature, but to my mind not as satisfying as either Pride and Prejudice or especially Persuasion, for me her most divine offering.
THE MAN WHO WENT UP IN SMOKE, by Maj Sjowell and Per Wahloo. Number 2 in a series of 10 police stories written in 1960's Sweden. Paying tribute to the genre created by Ed McBain in their emphasis on authentic police techniques, they create an understated but powerful atmosphere which anticipated Wallander by 30 years. Highly recommended.

FILMS

JUNO,(2007) directed by Jason Reitman, written by Diablo Cody. Beautifully written and acted tale of a teenager who gets pregnant, puts the child up for adoption, but then finds things getting complicated. As well she might. Excellent! Hollywood can still make exceptionally good, low-budget films sometimes,it seems.
PUNLIC ENEMIES (2009), written and directed by Michael Mann. John Dillinger (played by Depp) was a folk hero of 1930s America, known for his laconic sense of humour and his reluctance to shoot people. Yet with the one actor ideally placed to portray that kind of charcter, what do they do but make him a nasty, violent gangster who people might fear and respect, but certainly not like. See the original film, "Dillinger" with one of Warren Oate's finest performances as the man himself, for how to treat this subject properly.
FIREWALL (2006), directed by Richard Loncraine. Harrison Ford does another one of his "ordinary guy in extraordinary circumstances becomes superhero" and really it is all getting a bit tired. Paul Bettany as his evil nemesis is scarcely credible either. Probably needn't bother.