El Cordobes - the Beatle Matador.

Time to take Stock.

Story contd.

My trip to America brought my life into focus. It was a new decade; I was forty, in the next few years the boys would be leaving home and they were the glue that was holding our marriage together. William and I discussed this and he – half jokingly - suggested we should buy two separate maisonettes which had little appeal to me. I really loved my home and it suited the whole family. We had put a table tennis in the cellar and the apple loft over the stable had been converted into a teen-agers room.

# 1 son asked if he could have his birthday party there, minus adults, and we said yes provided there was no alcohol. He said no alcohol - no party - so there was no party. The good thing was he didn’t intend to deceive us which I applaud him for. We both took parenting seriously and spent as much time with them as they would allow. We often went to places of interest on Saturdays and I remember one that had a fortune teller in a caravan. William persuaded me to give it a try.

She spent some time studying my hands and she said I was not happily married but I would be eventually and would marry someone from my past. What a load of old codswallop I thought. I couldn’t think of a single person I would want to be married to. On Sundays we did ‘the walk’ and William would take us further and further each time, and then there was always a panic wondering if we would get to the pub before closing time.

The boys although both blonde and blue eyed were very different and had different tastes and talents. They both went on ski-ing and camping trips. I used to give them mini lectures about the importance of hygiene and the dangers of drugs. At least some of it got through; when I went to pick up the younger son after a cub week- end the cub-master was quite worried as my son hadn’t eaten all week-end. When I saw the trestle tables displaying uncovered food I understood why. I had told him never to eat anything a fly had been on. (Look it up -we did it in Biology). Between us we somehow managed to turn out two decent young men I think.

We had a glorious two weeks in Spain and that was the last time the four of us went on holiday together. We had a hairy drive to Granada which was so lovely and as a great treat we had a first class lunch in some beautiful grounds. We went to a bullfight and amongst others saw the matador de nos jours -El Cordobes - but the younger boy was disgusted and walked out. I felt I owed it to Hemingway to see what all the fuss was about but I never went again. Both boys would go sailing with William, the younger one would go youth hostelling and the elder would go on various holidays with either of us, in Scotland and later in France with me, mainly so he could drive as a learner with us chaperoning.

One year William and I took the rare decision to go on holiday together but with one of my old nursing friends (as referee?) – Vanessa who he approved of. It was to be taking a boat on the canals. William was always at his best on a boat and Vanessa and I enjoyed each other’s company and knew the boating couldn’t be too arduous on a canal.

The shop was running smoothly and we had a great team. The boys were now at secondary school and doing well according to their different capabilities; I had made some good friends in the theatre club and got plenty of acting and directing opportunities. I still had the odd upsetting dream about Jamie but on the whole I was content. Maddie had started working for publishers which meant travelling in Europe twice a year so she was a frequent visitor. She went to a Reunion in Oxford and saw both Liam and Jamie. She said later Jamie had problems but didn’t elaborate and I didn’t press her.

Just before we were due to go on the canal holiday with Vanessa, William walked into my room in the middle of the night and said he didn’t feel well. I put the bed-side light on, took one look at him and knew he was having a heart attack. Trying not to let him see my panic I sat him down and told him to just hang on and I would get the doctor straight away. I flew down to the hall and she answered immediately. She had just been out to a house in the same street – also a suspected heart attack- so that until we got the results we clung to the hope that it was just some infection. The doctor arrived very quickly – she said she could tell from my voice how urgent it was.

She did various tests with me still clutching William’s hand and trying to reassure him. The ambulance arrived soon after and the doctor told me to get dressed and to follow the ambulance in my car. I rushed into the boy’s bedrooms and told them that Dad wasn’t very well and I was going with him to hospital but he was going to be fine and I’d be back soon. They had no recollection of this the next morning and were furious with me. I phoned Vanessa and asked her to cancel the canal holiday. We were all in a state of shock.

MICHAEL BALCON -GRANDFATHER

JILL BALCON - MOTHER

DANIEL DAY LEWIS - DOUBLE OSCAR WINNER

Dan the Man

Aside

Years ago I was captivated by a Titania (Midsummernight’s Dream) with the most amazing facial bone structure. Decades later I saw the same face but this time it was a young man in a strange film- ‘My beautiful Launderette’. The young man was Daniel Day Lewis and I discovered that the girl was his mother Jill Balcon, who in turn was the daughter of Michael Balcon, who owned and ran the Ealing Studios in their hey day. Daniel’s father was Cecil Day Lewis – poet laureate, and Daniel’s wife is the daughter of the late Arthur Miller – distinguished Playwright.

You’d have to be pretty special to live up to a family of that ilk and Dan is – pretty special. So one would expect nothing less than the bravura performance he gives as Daniel Plainview in ‘There will be blood’ and today I hear he has received his well deserved Oscar. Yes - this was the film we chose to see on our disappointing Saturday. My first choice was ‘La vie en Rose’ but it was the wrong day. I still wish we had seen it; I didn’t really enjoy ‘There will be blood.’ It wasn’t just the violence – ‘No country for old men’ was even more so and I rated that highly.

Daniel plays a vicious monster dominating every frame and most of the characters are liars, cheats and hypocrites. MTL thought he sounded like Sean Connery but to me it was pure (if you’ll pardon the expression) John Huston. Close your eye and listen – if you are old enough to remember. The film moves along at a reasonable pace although there was one long close up on the beach when I found myself trying to distinguish between the character’s nose hair and his moustache. There is some beautiful orchestral music along with a weird angry bees buzzing sound which made me think of the yelping music Hitchcock used ‘Psycho’ so maybe it will catch on.

One thing puzzles me. When I was a teenager I read ‘Oil ‘by Upton Sinclair and all I remember of it was when I read the babies were thrown, by the Reds, into the scalding water. I even mentioned it in a blog a year or so ago. Did I imagine it or am I muddling it with something else. Certainly there was nothing like it in the film. Thankfully. Well done Daniel!

Alas and alack…

Aside

We were up bright and early on Saturday and MTL popped out to get a paper when the phone rang. It was the birthday boy with the news that our grand-son had got the tummy bug that is plaguing their area and he wanted me to decide whether it was worth risking MTL and me getting it. We decided that I would discuss it with MTL and then phone him back. I rarely take health risks – certainly not where my husband is concerned – he takes enough himself – but it was my son’s birthday and I was so looking forward to a Sunday walk. I phoned my other DIL but as soon as I spoke to her I realised it just was not worth the risk. They themselves suffered it and she was certain we shouldn’t go. So we didn’t. We decided to cheer ourselves up – have an early lunch and go to the flicks, of which more later.

It’s odd when you have an unexpected free day. It seemed a good opportunity to do something I have been mulling over for ages. It’s a pipe dream to make a book of ‘Past Imperfect’. I am under no illusions of how difficult it would be to interest a publisher in the present literary climate, but at least I can start to clear the decks. At present all the posts are jumbled up together although everything is double- backed and burnt to CDs. After today’s efforts, I have listed all the posts in order and separated them from all the asides. My next step is to get it all on one document which should be well on the way to a first draft. I’m amazed to find the word count is over 89,000. Apart from more editing (I do edit all the time), cutting and shaping are needed.

Zinnia where are you when I need you? Off in foreign parts getting up to goodness knows what. I am in unfamiliar territory now so any advice will be appreciated. The trouble with disappointment – it engenders comfort eating. It must stop and I pledge to lose 7lbs by the summer (Indian or normal- who knows?)

Quick Trip

Aside

Off for a couple of days for my younger son's birthday. Back soon. Keep the faith!

Vermont Farm


Moonlight -Oriana