Celebrities in The Sun

My dental practice has one deficiency - and that is its selection of reading matter. Besides a number of pamphlets about oral hygiene, how to brush your teeth and that sort of thing (which, I admit, is fair enough), there's precious little else. That's the reason I now take a book with me - not that the wait is usually long enough to pick up the thread again. (Yes, it's the NHS.) However, there are always old copies of Hello magazine. Yesterday there were four. All four covers featured Katharine, Duchess of Cambridge ("Kate" to Hello), and of course the princess of football, Victoria Beckham, popped up once or twice, as well as Britain's answer to Carla Bruni, Cheryl Cole. Poor Katharine, every time we've been for an appointment, there she's been, smiling soulfully out from a slightly dog-eared cover. I wonder whether she's featured so much because, being state property, she doesn't have an agent charging the magazine an exorbitant fee.

I was reminded of this today listening to Rebekah Brooks' grilling at the Leveson Inquiry. I actually thought she did rather well, unruffled by the worst that the Inquiry QC, Robert Jay, threw at her and giving as good as she got. As one tweeter observed, if it was her intention, she was quite clever in giving the headline-writers a tasty crumb to deflect from the substance of the questioning: "LOL - Brooks reveals how PM signed his texts (until she told him what it meant)".

from The Huffington Post

At one point she was asked about the difference between Rupert Murdoch's and her own preference for news coverage in The Sun. "I preferred celebrities; he wanted more serious news." I guess, sadly, she is more in touch with The Sun's readership, although I must admit she came across as a rather sorted professional journalist, charming and determined... which might spell strength, or danger, depending where you're standing.

Chirpy old man!

I feel I need to rectify the impression I may have been projecting that I've become a permanent curmudgeon. Not so, dear reader....

Last weekend was wonderful. Not only was there more sun on Saturday and Sunday, but we also saw all of our family, as we were celebrating a birthday. As I'm sure I've said before, but it bears repeating, my family are great fun, and kind enough to keep most of their wit until I've finished eating. On Saturday Paul brought down our old photo albums from the loft and provided our granddaughters with considerable entertainment seeing their aunt and uncles as children and me with a full head of hair. Not only did Jane cook a roast for 9 on Sunday, but also a birthday lunch on Monday for 10 - both delicious, of course.

The house always seems very quiet after such a weekend. Not that Jane and I rattle around, it's just quiet and leaves us grateful for our children.

This week has been medical week. Jenny, the OT at the MND Centre in Oxford, contacted me on Tuesday about a possible tilt-in-space manual wheelchair for me to look at. It's "lightweight", and would help keep my posture more vertical than I manage at present. We'd have to see if it was easy to get in the boot of the car, both for weight and space. Anyway, we've arranged to meet her at a local supplier next week and she'll assess its suitability.

Then yesterday it was off to see the GP for a chat about my muscle relaxants. I'm taking the maximum dose I'm prepared to, and to be frank it doesn't seem to be solving the problem (my feet treading on each other when I walk, i.e. the adductors having too much tone, or something). As Gabapentin is a systemic drug, of course, it affects other muscles and I have found standing for any length of time harder et al. So in the end I've decided to reduce them bit by bit to zero. I am grateful for drugs (for example, that stop me fitting), although I don't always remember to say grace (i.e. thanks) before I take them, as I once heard Colin Urquhart recommend; but I'd prefer not to have them if possible.

And today it was the dentist I was visiting. She was ready to deal with a disintegrating premolar which has long given me trouble. She detected a small gum-boil next to it, and when I told her it had been a bit sensitive to pressure last week, she pursed her lips, and took an x-ray. Then she revised her intention to replace the existing filling, and gave me the choice, either to have root canal treatment and to try and cap it with a filling (with uncertain prospect of lasting success) or to have it out. She explained, but the decision was mine. Yikes! In the end I went for the extraction. She is amazing, my dentist. Out it popped!

All the above, of course, was on the National Health Service - not entirely free, but as good as - and all top quality treatment. Well, my dentist has extracted three of my teeth - and I still enjoy going. That must say something! Coincidentally today there were demonstrations by public service workers largely about pensions. In my view, my OT, physio, doctor, dentist, dental nurse, all deserve to have their full pensions as they are now.

Grumpy old man!

I'm told my post yesterday was a "real grumpy old man's blog"! Well, let me add to my grumples (my coinage).
Further grammatical errors that have been pointed out to me include different than. No wrong again: different from.

"Having read your blog for yesterday I find off of very annoying.  I heard a newsreader on the BBC use this only last week." Quite right, Heather. So do I, as in "Get off of the sofa!" No, just "Get off the sofa!" That's all you need.  

Adding unnecessary adverbs is a common affliction, for example, repeat again. Since "repeat" means "say, or do, again", the again is redundant, unless of course something's being said three times, which is what "repeat again" really means. Similarly return back: as "return" means "come back", you don't need the "back". Get a grip!

Don't let me get started on misplaced apostrophes.... ONLY WHERE A LETTER'S BEEN LEFT OUT!

And lastly, I once proudly taught the RSA's Basic Clerical Skills to help my lower groups with their literacy. It would, for example, teach them how to write their CVs, do interviews, address envelopes and write letters. Today I received an otiose reminder from the "Oxford University Hospitals NHS Trust", no less, informing me that I have an appointment booked for 21st May. I reckon my students would have failed had they produced this sort of visual abomination: different font sizes, different alignment, irregular spacing between words and paragraphs. The envelope's addressed chummily to "Michael Wenham" (no Mr or The Rev), which I wouldn't mind, were it a personal letter from someone I knew. However, and here's the worst of the errors, it starts
"Dear  Michael Wenham"
and ends
"We look forward to seeing you at your appointment.
Yours sincerely
Patient Contact Centre".

All right, I understand it's a computer-generated letter, which comes from centralised administration department. But they certainly won't see me, and neither will the computer (I hope), and in fact I don't believe either a department or a machine can ever appropriately described as "sincere". I have to say it's not the politest of computers or contact centres throughout the letter. It would be pleasant to receive something more personal and actually more respectful. I'm not that fussed about my own dignity, but it matters that hospitals (doctors, nurses, ancillary staff and administrators) treat patients with respect. So it wouldn't hurt or be beyond human wit to programme in a format which said "Dear Mr Wenham" and signed off with a name, either of someone at the clinic whom I might actually see, or of someone at the Patient Contact Centre, with a last sentence such as "We hope you are still able to keep the appointment."

As you'll know, I am a genuine fan of the National Health Service, but the John Radcliffe's creaking stegosaurus which is its administration seems to me signally in need of a rethink.

Damp pedantry

What better way to spend a drizzly Bank Holiday that indulge in a spot of pedantry and possibly therapy? I'm provoked to it by the exchange of comments on this blog about split infinitives.

So here's my big beef: different to. It should be different from. I'm sorry: it really grates on my ear. Let me explain why. "Different" is basically the gerundive of the verb "differ". The gerundive is the adjective form of the verb, for example, "distracting", as in "You're very distracting". Now say, "This differs to that". Listen to it. It's clearly incorrect; "this differs from that" is correct. So, it's different from, and its opposite is similar to.

I'm sorry to say that it's mainly UK English-speakers who get this wrong, not least BBC presenters, whereas English-learners and our transatlantic cousins generally get it right. The trick is to think before you speak. I'm hoping this short post will go some way to reversing this distressing trend. But I'm not holding my breath.

Check this out!

Last time I mentioned the enviable sunny weather being enjoyed at Casa Cristina, Roandola, in Romania. I've got some good news for you from Laurie, who runs it as a B&B and whose home it is.... "There's bottle of bubbly in the fridge for each of the first three bookings that mention your "Diary of a Donkeybody" blog!" Lubbly jubbly, as Del-boy would say. Cheers, Laurie!

"Tra-la-la-la-la"

Casa Cristina, Roandola

"Now is the month of May" - so goes the madrigal, as far as I remember.  Apparently it's going to be a sunny 30º in Romania today, according to Laurie Webb who runs a B&B in Transylvania, called Casa Cristina. Sounds an attractive proposition to me at the moment, assuming you can face crawling through the airport immigration controls on your return - I suspect the flights go from Luton and Gatwick, to be fair. Anyway after quite a bright day yesterday, when I sat in the conservatory and Jane hung out two loads of washing (she's a canny lady!), we woke up this morning to rain belting down. I gather I slept through a whopper of a thunderstorm in the night.

It was raining too at dawn in Oxford as the choristers sang in May morning from the top of Magdalen College Chapel tower. The rain clearly dampened the enthusiasm at ground level of the usual inebriated (and sober) revellers - as, compared to last year's 18,000, the estimate for this year was between 3,000 and 6,000. Perhaps, thinking about it, the sober ones stayed in their beds, and just the inebriates took to the streets. Fortunately none of them was drunk enough or stupid enough to jump off Magdalen Bridge into the swollen and fast-flowing water of the River Cherwell.

I love this picture taken at the weekend by Luke Leary
and posted on Facebook.

I remain grateful for the continuing rainfall. Well, I can afford to, I suppose, as I just stay indoors when it's pouring. I am sorry, though, about Badminton Horse Trials being cancelled, as a very important, in my eyes, and lovely young lady was planning to go on Sunday. I was interested to hear the weathermen and the Environment Agency spokesman yesterday categorically declaring that although we've had the wettest April on record and although there were 120+ flood warnings out it would be having "absolutely no impact" on the deep water reserves from which we draw a lot of our water. None? Absolutely none? Perhaps by the evening they'd realised that no one quite believed them, as they'd changed their tune to "while the downpours help tackle the drought in many of the areas now suffering flooding, much more rain is needed in the coming months to fully (sic) replenish supplies". That sounded a bit more honest and consequently believable.

Floods with a silver lining

I forgot to mention yesterday that when we arrived in the rain at The Horse and Jockey pub in Stanford, we were greeted by a chipper Charles. We were having lunch with his wife, Mandy, and himself. They live in Grove in an former flour mill on the Letcombe Brook. They now generate green electricity with a turbine there (though at the moment the turbine is out of action). I mentioned them in My Donkeybody, as their mill was badly flooded in July 2007 - and more importantly they came to be our guardian angels when I was diagnosed with MND.

Anyway, they were both excited as they had earlier that morning seen an otter in the brook - first time ever. "Must have got lost," said Charles. It was a bit of compensation for their and their neighbours' shock at the wholesale and unannounced uprooting of a screen of trees on the opposite bank. I hope the otter returns to delight them and even creates a holt in the area. I don't think they took a photo. But sometimes, when you do fuss over getting a snap, I think you miss the magic of the moment. After all a photograph never captures the real thing. However, I guess this Guardian photo is something like what Charles and Mandy witnessed.