Je Suis un Mancunion

Jack’s weekly guest post –

I’m writing this the day after the terrible terrorist bombing at the end of the concert in Manchester and there are many thoughts swirling through my head. Of course the first thoughts are for the families of the kids who died – and many of them were young teenagers without any sense that they could be in danger at all. There were even two young friends from Barra in the Outer Hebrides off the west coast of Scotland. It’s an island with less than 1000 inhabitants. One is in hospital with serious injuries and the other is still missing and unaccounted for as I write this.

But while my first thoughts were for the families, there was something else bothering me.

I’m reminded of how the Falklands war broke out so conveniently for Margaret Thatcher just as an election was approaching–one she might easily have lost. Of course, with much flag waving and ‘British spirit’ she was re-elected comfortably. I’m reminded of a movie Wendy made me watch called WAG THE DOG, about an American president creating a fake war to boost his popularity. I didn’t want to watch it because it seemed so unsavory to write a comedy about something Britain had probably done. It was a funny movie, but in it the war was faked entirely rather than actually carried out under false pretenses.

And here we have a bombing just before an election when Theresa May’s polling results show her popularity plummeting. I’m not suggesting that this was a ‘false flag’ event (the name under which the British secret service carried out events they blamed on other groups during the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland). Sometimes false flags involve true terror organizations being guided by shadowy figures who operate at arm’s length.

Perhaps it’s not a false flag, rather that a terrorist group consider having someone like Theresa May as British Prime Minister will give them a much better opportunity to create more havoc, so they decided to give her help.

I’m not much given to conspiracy theories, but the timing of this is just highly suspicious to me. Mrs May’s catch phrase for the last month or so has been ‘strong and stable’ – repeated to the exclusion of any real policies. Then just two weeks before the election she is presented with the perfect scenario to be  ‘strong and stable’ and immediately raises the danger level to its highest  in over ten years. This also allows her to put troops and armed police on the streets.

Of course no-one on the opposing political side can possibly do anything else except support her under these circumstances, meanwhile all electioneering has been put on hold.

How terribly convenient!

Update –

Since writing the above post, I’ve checked a few of my favorite sources (favorite because of their lack of histrionics and hyperbole) and it seems I’m not alone in my suspicions. At the very least Mrs May seems to be milking this for all it’s worth and neither the police or the army are happy with her approach which they describe as counterproductive even if they had the numbers to do it effectively.

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Sansa Stark Issues a Dire Warning

rickon towelListen up, people. I am Sansa Stark, and my family and I have been treated most vilely. We came to this foster home believing they would be good to us, and at first I admit they were. Wet food, soft beds, a climbing tree, and we got lots of cuddles and shoulder rides. robb

Yes, thank you, but that doesn’t make up for what came next. One morning bright and early with no warning, that sweet-voiced lady who’s always cooing and carrying us around picked us up and deposited us without ceremony into a box. And closed us in there, and carried us off, despite our protests.

Next thing we know, we’re in this big bright space and dogs are barking and people are petting us and saying things like, “Bath time, babies!”

Bath? What is this thing you speak of? We like petting, and their hands were nice so we didn’t think anything about it until…..

rickonWATER! WATER EVERYWHERE! I watched in horror as someone picked up my baby brother Rickon and set him under a little waterfall. He yelled for help, but there was nothing we could do except watch as they cruelly applied a foul blue gel that foamed and bubbled like a witch’s spell, and then thrust him back under the waterfall, again and again.

Truth be told, I had thought Rickon was black and brown. I didn’t expect him to be so white.

Anyway, no sooner had his cries subsided when they reached for me….

I will be avenged. Do you hear me? I will wreak such havoc as has never been known in this kingdom or the next…..

sansaWe would like to be adopted now, please. Obviously this is not a place we can trust. I will reward handsomely the first person to rescue any of us. Me first, of course.

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Everything’s Coming up Roses – –

It’s Jack’s Wednesday guest post – and it’s on a Wednesday for a change!

It’s that time of year again – When we can watch the grass grow and try desperately to stay ahead of all the yard work.

We had an abnormally cool and rainy spring here, so the transition to days of sunshine and temperatures in the 80s has been rather abrupt this year. But we didn’t have the usual late frost, so we will have a very abundant apple and pear crop. Even the sad old peach tree, although on her last legs, will have a crop of some sort it appears. Apparently peach trees have a limited life and just die naturally then have to be replaced. On the other hand, the apple tree I thought I might have pruned to death a couple of years ago has recovered well – swings and roundabouts.

Our good friend David came over from NC recently and prepared our front garden so Wendy has been scattering flower seeds there, while our heirloom tomatoes are ready to be planted along the back yard fence. We couldn’t possibly have grown tomatoes outside in Scotland, far less the peppers we will plant out front here.

But summer here also brings fairly regular thunderstorms that test the efficacy of our gutters. I already know that a couple are sagging in the wrong place, so that’s another urgent job that will have to be fitted in between mowing and weed-whacking. At least we now have a weed-whacker that actually starts and runs happily as well as having the easiest string replacement system I’ve ever come across. We have another two in the shed that never worked properly!

Wendy and I have an old friend in Scotland (who lives in a house that features regularly throughout the ‘Outlander’ TV series) and he sends end-of-the-year newsletters annually that are always full of doom and gloom. Reading back through this post it looks a little like that, so – –

Just for the record, I’m very happy to live where the summers are warm and mostly sunny and the winters are no worse than Scotland!

I just remembered I need to get gas for the mower – – –

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The Monday Book: YOU HAD ME AT WOOF by Julie Klam

hadmeatwoofSo this is one of those books that’s an awful lot like a “reality” show. It just takes what comes and turns it into funny.

Klam’s writing is funny. She turns stuff that is bread-n-butter dull about rescuing dogs into fodder for guffawing. Her turn of phrase and comedic typing timing shine through.

Because overall, this is a book that will be so familiar to rescuers, it’s kinda like when cat people play that game Neko Atsume. Why? You do that all day in real life….

There are some intense moments in WOOF but overall this is a light, breezy read that gives mostly laughs. I read it on my girl getaway weekend in Asheville with friends who are also animal lovers, and after a couple of out-loud snorts, they forbade me to read any more as we settled in for bed.

Klam also weaves her family into the narrative, detailing sibling rivalry between her daughter and a co-dependent puppy, and how her husband reacted to assorted pass-throughs of needy canines. Not much of it is in depth, more a laugh-a-minute across the surface. I was totally in the mood for that when I read this, so it worked. If you’re looking for a deep read about dog rescue, this isn’t it, but if you want to dip a toe into the water and see how it feels, WOOF is for you.

Diversion doggies; it’s a fun, quick, sweet, light read. Two paws up for YOU HAD ME AT WOOF.

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I’m Going to a Spa to Lie Down

Friends and I have been plotting our escape for months. Grove Park Inn in Asheville, home of a spa full of mineral pools and a restaurant full of fine wines. Susan, Beth, and I are going to go be Women On Vacation there for three days.

We are taking extra wine, and some Polar Water (soda of choice for those as don’t drink soda) and coloring books and our bathing suits. We are leaving behind our cell phones and our Adulting hats.

Viva la irresponsibility!

Beth has an incredibly responsible job. She is the vet for Appalachian Feline Friends AND the entire town of Big Stone Gap. People drive up to her home at midnight with owls they hit; they phone at 3 a.m. to ask about a coughing dog. Being a vet in a small town is hard work, 24/7. Her phone will be off this weekend.

Susan reads x-rays to tell people whether or not that have incurable diseases. No pressure there….. and she is herself the survivor of a difficult health history that has left her with some enduring ouchies. Plus she looks after a herd of eldercats, including some adopted from AFF. Her phone will be off this weekend.

And me, I run around between the medical world, the bookselling world, the cat rescue world, and general adult responsibilities, trying to shuck them all onto other people so I can carve out time to write. My clinical office is moving and turning itself into a 501c3, with resultant steady politics. The cat rescue is coming into season. And I have final edits due at the end of the month that haven’t been started. (Umm, if you’re reading this, Nancy, I’m on top of it, I swear.)

We are going to a spa to lie down. Preferably in salt water pools while handsome cabana boys bring us drinks with fruit in them. Actually, skip the fruit and put in extra chocolate syrup and vodka.

And yes, we will certainly enjoy the trappings of a ritzy weekend, but more we will enjoy just being together, doing nothing but being together. Scottish folksinger Ivor Cutler wrote a song that English singer Nic Jones made famous in pubs across Britain. Jack and I often sing the lyrics when we’re stressed, and in fact since The Election in America a quote from it has been my banner picture on Facebook.

I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field to lie down

Green grass, green grass, growing  beneath me
There’s the green grass growing beneath me
I’m going in a field to lie down
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field to lie down

Blue skies, blue skies up above me
There’s the green grass growing beneath me
I’m going in a field to lie down
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field to lie down

Yellow flowers, yellow flowers growing all around me
There’s blue skies up above me
Green grass growing beneath me
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field
I’m going in a field to lie down

Susan, Beth and I are outta here. Y’all have a good weekend, ’cause we’re sure planning to.

 

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Intersections

Jack’s doing the Monday Book this week because yesterday was Wendy’s birthday – –

This is more about books in general and the kind I favor.

I tend to read memoirs, biographies, histories and novels that are set in the present. I tend not to read romances, historical novels, science fiction or fantasy. BTW – romances about the Amish may be popular but I’ve never read any.

The most recent read was ‘Monty Python Speaks’ which is really a history of the famous fellows from the their roots and on to infamy (they’ve all got it infamy). It included a reference to my big sister’s old school chum Denise Coffey, who starred in a precursor of the ‘Circus’ on British TV called ‘Do not Adjust your Set’ it even had her in a picture alongside Cleese, Palin and Jones. I was probably about 10 years old when I last was in her company.

So books can not only be a way into a particular world from the point of view of the author (and her husband), but also alongside a character referenced by someone else altogether. This gets us towards something else – altogether – –

One of my favorite writers of fiction is the author of the Inspector Rebus novels – Ian Rankin. They’re novels, but the author and Rebus are from West Fife where I also spent most of my life. He captures the Fife coalfield villages perfectly and those passages are very real to me.

So I suspect we (or at least some of us) live our lives, very often, through reliving our lives through others’ writings or maybe projecting our lives into others’ writings. We wander back and forth through our own lives, imagined lives, lives we’ve read about, imagined lives we’ve read about –

Aren’t books wonderful?

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Hey Y’all, (don’t) Watch This

50_Cupcake_HiRez

Today is my 50th birthday. So far this morning I have celebrated by catching up on things that slid past while my attention was directed elsewhere: getting the final grades in, why the dishwasher was making that funny noise, blue line edits to Fall or Fly, what to do about the nasty stain in the downstairs toilet bowl….Turning 50 is very glamorous.

One of the items I’m catching up on is this weekend’s blog. It is very satisfying to go from 49 to 50. Among other things, this is the age at which society begins to ignore women, which means we can do as we like. At the fundraising galas, while the eyes of the men with bow ties are on the cute little blond across the room, I can drink their champagne. When a kitten tries to cross a busy road, I can leap from my automobile and demand everyone halt because I have grey in my hair, heft to my hips, and the authority of surprise behind me. Yet no one will hold me accountable, because I am a 50-year-old American woman.

If I’m reading the hints right, society thinks women are supposed to feel bad about turning 50, slightly apologetic or guilty that we couldn’t keep ourselves young and thin forever. Ha. I got these wisdom lines from a lot of different places, none of which I am ashamed of being in. And from knowing a lot of different people, most of whom were worth knowing, and the ones that weren’t I don’t know any more. Traveling light is a good thing at any age, so it seems a little counter-intuitive to worry about carrying other people’s baggage now.

Thus I spent my birthday morning stamping gel flowers into all the toilets in the house, because they promised to eliminate odors AND suspicious pink crusting. I found it very satisfying. Who knew they even made such wondrous things? And my husband has promised me one of those little round vacuums to do the floors – you know, the kind cats like to ride in You Tube videos. It’ll be entertainment as well as cleaning. Not that cleaning is my thing: living in a comfortable house while saving time is. I have stuff to write, mischief to make, cats to play with, husbands to tease – ehm, strike that, just one husband – and causes to support. Heh heh heh. Never underestimate the power of a woman whistling on her way.

Hold my stolen champagne glass, kiddo; I’m goin’ in.

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