I am an Anglophile

I have just started watching “The Criterion Collection”, a four-film set entitled, “David Lean Directs Noel Coward”.  I started with “Brief Encounter”.  Besides a perfect remastering of the original film, Criterion has added special features of most of the people involved, talking about the film, the production, and the people involved.  That is what makes the difference between just watching the movie and almost studying it.

I want to hold back on watching, for my first time, the next three.  I’m hoping to find like-minded people, who can watch the special features, either before or after the film [vote] and will have the time to discuss the film.  The next three in the collection are: “Blithe Spirit”, “This Happy Breed”, and “In Which We Serve”.   I want to do “Brief Encounter” again, at the end – it is England’s best picture ever.

We could do these over four weeks, on a specific night; or two days in a row; or over a weekend.  Meals, snacks, wine, popcorn, guests all in the mix.

I am a self-confessed, avowed Anglophile – no denials.  I acquired this affliction on my summer-tour of Europe in 1960, between my 4^th and 5^th year at University [Arizona] – I was not a bright student.

Landing in London for the first time in my life was awe-inspiring – hearing the mother-tongue a revelation.  Jet-lagged, I got up at 4am that first day and rode the tube all over town, stopping at an early am fish market, and then a bulk vegetable purveyor, ate “things” – winding up in some suburb where I stole a glass bottle of milk and a newspaper, and back at the hotel for the 9am tourist breakfast, but having seen and heard a glimpse of Dickens.

In my 5^th year [2 required courses], one I took was a fun course in British WW-I poets: Owen, Sassoon, and Brooke.  This graduate, expert’s class was for MFAs in English – the instructor told me she would not grade me, but I would get an “A” if I spoke my mind.   I did – “Goodbye, Mr. Chips” still makes me cry.

The clincher to my Anglophilic tendencies, however, was spending six years, mid-eighties, as an ex-pat, living and working in non-London England.  Half those years I was single, and the other half married, to an out of (above) my class English woman, who was a brilliant, Cambridge graduate (in English).

Some people of my age group yearn for those rock and roll times of Elvis, the Beatles, and smooth jazz, of their teens, which may have been their best times.  My memorable era was this eighties period in England, where I underwent another growth spurt.  So, I still associate “Hitchhikers Guide” (radio), and “Smiley’s People” (TV) with England.

Now that I am beginning to try and put together a regular weekly film viewing group, I am letting show my natural predilection towards British film, and I’m looking for ways to support a sub group of like-minded people, that might like-wise be willing to watch more than one British film a year.

A Quiet Day

Well today was supposed to be a quiet, restful day.  Yesterday I packed up a sixth of a cord of Walnut scraps at Calico, then unloaded them at home; cut up most of them with a reciprocating saw; and finally carried the pieces up (30-40 loads) my eighteen back steps, to my winter storage site on my back deck.  Four hours manual labor in the hot sun took me down to 173.4 pounds, as I advanced to my goal of 169 for my 63^rd high school reunion next month.

So, my goal for today was to pick up meds at Kaiser, and while at it, I scheduled my annual review for Sept 13^th, blood tests next week.  I picked up a 3 cubic foot (90 pounds) bag of Happy Frog soil amendment, and a new Jasmine vine from Harmony Farms, so I’d have something outside to do in the afternoon.  I was going to get in some reading for my book clubs.  [and hem up a 3^rd apron for my sink cover].

When much to my bewilderment, when I went to install the new Jasmine, I found that the the entire next three sections, 12-feet of fence line, had fallen, bottom to top 7 feet, into my neighbor’s yard.  This was going to be future work, section by section, probably into next year.  I wasn’t ready for this.  But as I assessed the damage, the neighbors couldn’t get to their garbage can, and other things.

From 2-4, I hedge-trimmed, shears-cut, and hauled sections of hedge to my driveway.  I did it in three sections, each 7’ X 3’ X 4’.  Correy can finish them up – into bags, then the dump.  It was hot, sweaty work, and when I took a shower at 4 pm and weighed myself, it was a recent low at 170.2.  Of course, I drank a lot of fluids and ate a steak dinner, but still, I’m a solid 173, after dinner and re-hydrating.

During all this frenzied activity, by me, my neighbor's gnome-cat watched with total aplomb.  I made noise, stirred activity, but like Lewis Carroll's cat, she just grinned.

OK, the weight thing is cultural – no one who hasn’t seen me in fifty years will know or care whether I weigh 169 or 181.  It is nice however, going back to my annual checkup above.  I was 190 in 2016 and 180 in 2018, getting to 170 in 2019 is a positive trend.  I did this in 2017 and the numbers came out great.

Horny Flowers

    The Horniest form,

   possibly the Sexiest:

earth life that we know

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 I water my planter box garden

Each afternoon at 3:30.  The garden

Loves bees and other bugs.

 In book club today, we spoke of

Trees and other flora.

 I watched the drooping sun,

Wine glass in hand,

As a black butterfly, small bee,

then a monster bumble bee

ravage, in succession, this delicate

lavender flower.  She enjoyed it.

It dawned on me that whether one believes in a Religious God, or a scientific god, all life has a purpose, interwoven with all other life.

The more I listen to NPR’s “Science Friday” and/or read books, the more I believe that all life forms enjoy sex.

The bee with the Passion Flower, burrows deep into the center core.

A mating long and happily sought.

My Kaiser Doctor was right

(I am a slow learner)

As we all know, I am averse to taking any kind of pain medication or drugs of any kind.  However, over the past few years, I have found that my muscle recovery time from bouts of strenuous activity has been taking longer and longer.

This past Thursday, I spent the day with a dozen fifty-pound bags of dirt of various sorts: first loading them in the car, then unloading them to my backyard; then opening and adding them to my new garden cabinet.  In total, that meant lifting a ton of dirt.  The day before I built the new cabinet: measuring, cutting, drilling, screwing; wielding tools and wood; and clearing the area (hedge-trimming) for the new cabinet.  The day before that, I loaded and unloaded the car with a load of walnut wood from Calico, climbing in the 10-foot high scrap pile; selecting armfuls of pieces; filling the back of the car with about a yard of fireplace-sized pieces – about 600 pounds.

When I was younger, my muscles would bounce back the next day.  No Longer!  By yesterday, end of week Friday, I was sore allover: back-ache, leg ache, and arm ache.  These past few years, it has taken me days, weeks to recover.  When I have complained to my Kaiser Doctor about this problem, she said, “Take an aspirin”.

So last night I did – one 200-mg Advil PM.

My lifestyle isn’t going to change – I’ll be as active forever.

But I’m going to add that one 200-mg Advil PM tablet to most of my Friday night’s regimens in place of the 81-mg aspirin.

I took the day off today, partially because I was feeling so good this morning: arms strong, legs bouncy, and no lower back pain.  A good night’s pain-free sleep did the trick.

I even have them around only for a situation, probably once a month or two, where I know I’m going to have a problem sleeping.