THE NEW MAN IN MY LIFE

There is a new man in my life. No, he hasn’t replaced my old favourite – George Foreman, as in my George Foreman grill. The Lean Mean Grilling Machine. “Big George” is a retired professional heavyweight boxing champion; Foreman’s fight against Mohammed Ali in Zaire (now called the Democratic Republic of the Congo) was dubbed “The Rumble in the Zungle.” Ali won; largely because of an injury that Foreman sustained about a month before the fight was due to occur. Foreman made a comeback but retired a few years later. He made another successful come back and then went on to retire a second time. I love the way it grills food on both sides simultaneously so that it’s ready in half the time. George’s place in my heart is safe. The grill is manufactured by Russell Hobbs and would probably have been made anyway but Foreman played a part in its design. So no, no-one can replace my George.

However, the new man in my life is little Daniel, the son of my niece-in-law Julia, (I think that’s the correct way to describe the relationship) and Jordi.

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Those who know me well know that I am far more interested in animals than I am in children but Daniel is a very special little boy. It was his third birthday when I saw him last week. He remembered me from the last time I met him, which was probably a year ago, so pretty impressive, huh? Julia said that he looks at the photograph albums so has seen my face in between times, but even so, photographs don’t change, faces do.

The first few pictures here are of Daniel in Julia’s Granddad Ken’s house.

 

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And here’s Daniel’s selfie.

 

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Julia, Jordi and Daniel came over from their home in Barcelona for a visit and we went out for Sunday lunch at a pub near to Ken’s home in Hertfordshire. Of course, I engineered it so that I got to sit next to Daniel; he’s such a little cutey. I’m not stupid.

When you consider that Daniel speaks Catalan and I don’t, communication was very easy. He’s such a friendly little boy that “Ola,” could easily be mistaken for “Hello,” and other people in the pub where we had lunch were very happy to respond to him. The photographs give a pretty good idea that this is a happy little boy. I think Daniel actually thinks I understand him when he speaks Catalan to me, but I just do what I do with all men, nod and smile in response to their smiles, and pull other faces when they do. All this NLP work about mirroring and matching seems to work quite well.

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I had bubble and squeak for my starter (bubble and squeak with bacon and eggs). He didn’t have any of the bacon but Daniel seemed to enjoy the egg and the potato. Well, it was only fair as he wasn’t having anything to start.

Julia tells me that Daniel sleeps all through from about 8pm to 6am which is great. I rather wish that I could get that much sleep every day, although I’d lose such a lot of time. Still, maybe I’d get more quality work done in the time available? Perhaps it’s Daniel’s ability to sleep through that makes him such a good natured little boy, because he is truly a happy child, very charming. You can just see in his face that he likes the ladies and is going to be a complete heartbreaker when he gets older.

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What was really nice was that an older gentleman who had been having lunch came over at the end of his meal and told Julia how lovely Daniel had been. I think there is just something about a smiling, laughing child that makes everything in the world seem better somehow.

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Julia is also a writer; you can see a couple of samples of her work here:

 

http://www.barcelonaguidebureau.com/blog-art-made-of-chocolate-the-easter-mona

 

http://www.barcelonaguidebureau.com/blog-Sant-Jordi-s-Day-in-Barcelona-a-stroll-that-you-can-t-miss

Finally, if you like the blog, please sign up to receive it directly into your mailbox.  You can do this by hitting reply at the top of the page, and completing your details.

 

© Susan Shirley 2015

MARMITE

 

 

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I absolutely adore the stuff! I know people either love it or hate it, but I am well and truly in the LOVE IT camp. I eat it by the spoonful when I’m in Marmite mode. (I have to confess to being a bit faddy about food.)  Mind you, when I say people either love it or hate it that excludes my work colleague, Suzette, who says she doesn’t like it but loves Twiglets????? And who craves it sometimes?????

I hadn’t had Marmite for ages, although I always have a pot of it in the house (great for flavouring soups, etc) but then my friend, Anne Germain, said that she was being eaten alive by insects when in the garden and I remembered that whenever I’ve eaten Marmite, or taken B complex vitamins, I’ve never been bitten. The little beasties love me too, but I stopped eating Marmite on toast for breakfast when I gave up wheat about 15 years ago, and have only recently started eating wheat free bread again (it used to be pretty grim but is much better now).

Marmite is the French word for a large earthenware or metal cooking pot with a lid, hence the picture on the Marmite label. Back in the 19th century a German scientist named Justus von Liebig discovered that brewer’s yeast could be concentrated, bottled and eaten. One can only imagine what he was taking to put him onto that train of thought, but I’m so glad he did it!

The Marmite Food Extract Company was founded in 1902 in Burton-on-Trent in Staffordshire. Back then, it was sold in earthenware pots. The glass jars that we know and love didn’t come into play until the 1920s. The yeast required to make the Marmite came from the nearby Bass Brewery. By 1907, Marmite had become so popular that a second factory opened up in Camberwell Green in South London. The factory was closed in the 1960s. Apparently, the local residents tried to get a reduction on their rates (basically, what we now know as Council Tax) because the smell from the factory was so awful!

The UK version of Marmite is sold pretty much all over the world, except in New Zealand, Australia and the surrounding areas. This is because it is manufactured under licence in Christchurch, New Zealand, using a modified recipe. It is apparently not as “tangy” as the British version. (I don’t want to hear any more comments about Whinging Poms then!)

During the First World War, Marmite was issued to British troops as part of their rations as it had been discovered that it helped in prevention of beriberi, a deficiency disease. In the 1930s, a British scientist named Lucy Wills used it to treat anaemia. It was later found that it was the Folic Acid present in the Marmite that did the trick.

It’s not just me who loves the big M. Apparently the Rolling Stones and Dido are huge fans! Yay, I knew there was a reason I liked their music. So are Britney Spears and Eddie Redmayne. Madonna and Russell Brand both hate it. Never mind.

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Things you didn’t know about Marmite

Both Gary Rhodes and Nigella Lawson have used it in recipes.

Footballer Nicolas Anelker is scared of it, even though he’s never tried it.

If you put a blob on a plate and keep tapping it with a spoon, it goes a lighter colour. Apparently, it’s because it gets air bubbles in it… Mmm, something to do when you’re bored I guess.

It’s popular in prisons, with the inmates, at any rate. Apparently it can be used to make alcohol.

It is generally considered to be gluten free, although the manufacturers will not confirm this.

In Sri Lanka, it’s a hangover cure. It’s made into a hot drink, with lime juice and a fried, sliced onion. Well, I’d give it a try.

There is a Marmite cook book by Paul Hartley.

There is a sculpture in Burton-on-Trent called Monumite.

In 2009, a thief stole 18 jars in one month from a petrol station. They ceased stocking it after that.

© Susan Shirley 2015

CATS

I spent some time with my friends Anne Germain and her husband Keith last weekend.  Anne and Keith have four cats, Gizmo, Bilbo (usually referred to as Bo) Simba and Frodo.  Gizzy and Bo are sisters and the boys are brothers.  For the first time in their little lives, the girls willingly allowed me to stroke them. Funny that, because I’ve known them for years. The boys have always been friendly towards me but not the big girls.

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The boys, both gorgeous long haired black cats, had two sisters who have both, sadly, died. Anne tells me that the change in the girls’ behaviour has been since the most recent death.

It started me thinking about my own cats and cat behaviour generally.  I know very well that my beautiful Telesto was not happy with having her teeth scaled last year.  Then earlier this year, she started to exhibit stress related behaviour so I plugged in a Feliway diffuser and crossed everything hoping it would help.

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Amazing stuff, that Feliway, because within two weeks, she was much, much happier and had returned to her old self.  The manufacturers, by the way, say it can take up to six weeks to make a difference, so I was very impressed that it was so quick.

I had discussed her behaviour with my vet who explained that cat behaviours and social structures are very complicated, way too complicated for us humans.  So the change in Anne’s cats is maybe not surprising.

Telesto’s behaviour was also probably not difficult to understand.  Cats are territorial creatures and don’t much like change.  There is a particular cat that comes into my garden; we nicknamed him Dave that she particularly dislikes. In fact, she is scared of him.  A year or so ago, she spent all night awake, sitting on top of a neighbour’s shed because Dave was in my garden and she didn’t want to pass him to come in.  I know this because I kept getting up to check on her.  Even when I shooed him out of the garden, she wouldn’t come in; cats are stubborn too.  Anyway, he kept coming back as soon as I turned my back. Telesto also gets upset when I work long hours and she doesn’t feel that she gets enough of my attention.

It’s not just Telesto who has benefited from the Feliway though.  Oceana has been more relaxed too.  It’s only my little girls who don’t seem to have been affected, but then they don’t seem to be affected by very much. They are happy little souls and apart from the fact that they were abandoned at a couple of weeks old, they have lived with me for all but three months if their lives so clearly have a lot to be happy about!  They are well looked after and loved so don’t have a bad life.

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The little ones don’t go out very much, and if they do, they like me to leave the door open (we don’t do cat flaps). If I close the door they both do an impersonation of a meercat, standing on hind legs looking through the window.  So cute!

Some other interesting cat facts:

  1. On average, cats spend about 16 hours a day sleeping.
  2. Female cats tend to be right pawed. Just watch them to see!
  3. Cats can hear high frequency sounds about two octaves higher than humans. Their hearing is better than that of dogs.
  4. A cat can run at a speed of about 31 mph over a short distance.
  5. A cat can jump about five times its own height in one leap.
  6. When a cat rubs its cheeks against you or objects it’s not just a sign of love, it has glands in its cheeks that mark you or the object with its scent. Its tails and paws also carry the cat’s scent.
  7. In many parts of Europe and North America, black cats are considered to be a sign of bad luck, however, in Britain and Australia, the opposite is the case. However, back in the Middle Ages, they were considered bad luck here.
  8. The reason that cats don’t like water is that their coats do not insulate them well when wet.
  9. Cats usually have twelve whiskers on each side of their face.
  10. Cats don’t have such good colour vision as humans, and can’t see things very close up.
  11. Isaac Newton invented the cat flap.
  12. Cats almost never meow at other cats, they reserve that for humans.

© Susan Shirley 2015

THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM… OR IS IT?

 

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I am a fair weather “getter up.”  As in I don’t mind getting up at dawn, or even before dawn, in the summer, when the weather is warm.  In the winter, however, it is a whole different ball game.  I gather cats close and snuggle deep down under the duvet.

“All very interesting but what’s the point?” I hear you say.

The point is that at some point in the next 18 months, I will be undergoing a complete career change.  I dream of being a full time writer, publishing a new best seller every three months or so, living off the royalties and winning a Man Booker prize.  Whilst I do not think that is an impossible dream (well, maybe the Man Booker might be) I have to be realistic.  I need something to put food on the table and pay the mortgage from day one.  Getting recognised and paid as a writer takes time and effort. And even fabulously paid writers cannot sit at their desks all day, every day.  Not unless they want to get very lardy.  And stop getting inspiration.

For most of us writers, inspiration comes in the form of interactions with other human beings.  So I considered becoming a postman.

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Benefits: early start so you finish early, in time to get back to the computer and write for a few hours (I’m writing this in Evernote, on the tube on t he easy to work).  A bit of exercise, fresh air. Meet a few people, and few barking dogs.

Disbenefits: early starts in the winter won’t suit me. Not sure how many people I will actually get to speak to, apart from saying

“Good morning, here’s your parcel.”

Benefits: disbenefits ratios are not numerical.  Becoming a postman is not at the top of the list.

What about becoming a dog walker?  This has definite possibilities.  I live close to a park, I like dogs, it’s good exercise and people always talk to dog walkers.  I can picture myself in the park, sipping coffee whilst I let my charges off their leads for a while.  And I can choose my jobs so don’t need to take any that I insist I walk Fang at zero five hundred hours every day.  I could get writing inspiration and still have time to write.  This has potential.

http://rcm-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/e/cm?t=feliciasbloga-21&o=2&p=26&l=ez&f=ifr&f=ifrBut why limit myself? What about zookeeper or landscape gardener? Fresh air, at least for the gardener, but I fear it would ruin my manicure. And what if the zoo put me in charge of insects? No, that wouldn’t work.

Then I moved onto some of the more prosaic jobs.  How about becoming a barmaid?  I’ve done it before, I can do it again.  But wait… Yes, I’ll get the human interaction but will the shifts give me enough free time (is writing time)?  Do I want to be travelling home late at night on a regulate basis?  Will it pay enough?

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The amount I’d get paid makes me think that I was pushing my luck with dog walker and postman. I know how much I need to maintain my lifestyle.

Of course, then there is want to be earnings. In my ideal world, I’d be earning more than I earn now, raking it in from a number of different sources. That would give me the opportunity to get inspiration from a number of different places too.

I could do so much with big earnings. I would love to be in a position to say to some friends,

“How much do you need to pay your mortgage off?”

My friend, Angela, and I discussed this years ago. She always said that she would only ever loan people the money to repay their mortgages, but at a really low interest rate. That way they wouldn’t feel beholden or feel that they’d been bought. I think she had a point. Giving someone a gift of £2000 or paying for an expensive meal when you earn hundreds of thousands a year, is not a big deal. But to pay off someone’s mortgage, knowing it’s maybe a year’s or half year’s salary is quite different.

And then there is being able to give money to your favourite charity, or even set up a charity that your really feel passionate about. And that’s without the holidays, the jewellery, the clothes… The possibilities are endless.

I do have serious plans about my future, some will involve some re-training, and some will involve doing more of what I’m doing now.

So what’s your ideal job? What would you like to do if pay was no issue?

 

© Susan Shirley 2015

THE WHITE HORSE, CHEDGRAVE

I had a flying visit up to Norfolk at the weekend. My friend Geoff was 75 years young and he had a party on Saturday, at the White Horse in Chedgrave.

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The White Horse is a lovely old country pub, in the heart of the Norfolk Broads, and in the summer (it was a trifle too chilly for this on Saturday) there is garden right by the river, which is absolutely beautiful. Simon Peck has owned it since 2008 and really makes people feel welcome there. Kate had chosen the White Horse for the party as it’s a fairly central location for most of the people they were going to invite, and the food is good.

Geoff had invited about 24 people, so the three of us (Geoff, his wife, Kate and I) got to the pub soon after 11.30 so that Kate and Geoff could be there to meet and greet and I could do the photography. (I ended up taking 75 photographs.)

People started turning up from about midday onwards, some I knew; some I didn’t, but got to know as the day progressed. We had drinks in the bar for an hour or so and went through for lunch at about 1.30, and what a fabulous buffet it was!

There were chicken drumsticks, freshly cooked ham, a whole fresh salmon, hot buttered new potatoes, two different quiches (one was quiche Lorraine and the other, I think, had sun dried tomatoes), home made coleslaw (which was to die for) and a fresh salad. There were heaps of freshly made bread and gluten free bread for the likes of me. It was fab and I think I made it to third helpings (well, I couldn’t let that all that food go to waste!) Kate and Geoff love this pub, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who goes up to that part of Norfolk. As a Londoner, I thought the drinks were pretty well priced too (I think a bottle of Pinot cost £13.95) and a pint of Guinness was £4.00.

http://whitehorsechedgrave.co.uk/welcome/

Kate’s hairdresser, Justine, made the cakes. You will see in the photograph of the big cake that she had decorated it with Geoff’s beloved Seething Tower. The photographs don’t do it justice, there is so much detail on it, and those who ate the cake said it was delicious. Justine also made four wheat free cup cakes for me – I’m not a big cake eater, but they were absolutely delicious. Justine, they were fantastic, thank you.

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Geoff was so pleased that so many of the people he wanted around him were able to make it, some of them are not in the best of health but they pulled out all the stops to be there. Jim and his wife, Tony and his wife, Jack and Louise, Kate’s uncle John and his wife Dorothy, Geoff’s daughter Linda, Ron and Anne, to name but a few.

And you remember I wrote a few weeks back about Geoff’s grand-daughter Hari running in the Rome Marathon for Leukaemia research? Geoff didn’t know it, but she managed a flying visit up too. And she went for a run when she left the party! Amazingly dedicated, well done Hari.

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Birthday Boy
Hari
Hari
Lovers...  Kate and Geoff
Lovers… Kate and Geoff

Hari has raised over £1100 pounds so far (her target is £1500) and a huge thank you to everyone who has contributed and to all those who gave money at the party. There is still time to donate if you haven’t done so thus far. Hari is working so hard for this; she really deserves to do well. She’s done a number of other races, including the Great North Run.

And thank you Geoff and Kate, your great friends, I love you lots.

Xx

 

© Susan Shirley 2015

JACK THE RIPPER CHARNOWALK

Sheena and I met up today, the first time this year. We went on David Charnick’s Jack the Ripper walk and then down to Brick Lane for a curry.

David’s walk was not a big- standard Ripper walk, I think it is reasonable to say it included, and perhaps, focussed on, a social commentary on life at the time. Particularly life for poorer women.

Life was hard for women of all classes back in the nineteenth century, I’ve written about this before:

http://wizzley.com/victorian-women/

Life was particularly hard for the poor and ill – educated.  It was often a hand-to-mouth existence and prostitution was a common means of making enough money to survive. (I not sure that this doesn’t still happen but it was certainly prevalent back then.) Apparently, there were professional prostitutes and casual prostitutes. Again, I’m not sure much has changed. I’ve known a few working girls over the years, and, if I’m honest, can’t say I haven’t thought about it myself, when times have been hard. I didn’t do it, because I’ve been lucky enough to have other ways of earning money, but I can understand why women would do this. I need to remember that next time I’m having a bad day.

David didn’t try to take us to the same places that some Ripper tours do, although that is no criticism of other tours – as he rightly said, most of the actual murder sites are gone now, through redevelopment.  I was pleased that we didn’t go to them all, because although you can get close to some of the murder sites, I think there is only one where you can really get a feel for what it was like to live in those days.

We started at Whitechapel station, where David made it clear to us that it would not be a gore-fest, nor one that suggested a number of possible suspects. David made it clear that he would not propose a theory as to who had committed the crimes, which is a really interesting take on these walks. I have done a couple before, where they do, and find it frustrating because none of us can prove or disprove the theories, and there are many of them. David was true to his word, this was no gore-fest, but a tour of historical interest.

This was originally a hostel, now student accommodation.
This was originally a hostel, now student accommodation.

So how many victims were there? It is generally accepted that there were five victims, although back in the day, the scandal rags newspapers tried to increase that number to eight. Personally, I’m not sold on the fifth, although I do understand how serial killers can escalate in their violence.

The generally accepted victims are:

Mary Ann Nichols, died 31 August 1888

Annie Chapman, died 8 September 1888

Elizabeth Stride (Long Liz), died 30 September 1888

Catherine Eddowes, died 30 September 1888

Mary Jane Kelly, died 9 November 1888

The reason I’m not sold on Mary Jane Kelly being a victim is because she was found in her home, not out on the streets like the others. As I’ve said, I know serial killers escalate, I’ve watched Criminal Minds, and I’ve also been to a couple of lectures by FBI analysts, so maybe I’m wrong, maybe she is a true victim. I think London back in those days was pretty violent, so I think it’s important not to get hooked into the general violence of the day.

The fact is that whoever tries to reconstruct the crime now, we will never know the exact number if his victims (four, five or eight or more) and we will never know for sure who committed the crimes.

 

This restaurant was the site of Ye Frying Pan, one of the pubs known to have been frequented by some of the Ripper victims.
This restaurant was the site of Ye Frying Pan, one of the pubs known to have been frequented by some of the Ripper victims.

When the walk finished, we went for an early dinner at “our” Aladin  in Brick Lane.  We had the regulatory papadoms to start, then Sheena had chicken naga with garlic rice and I have chicken balti vindaloo with peas rice.  We had onion bhaji as a side. I’ve never had the balti vindaloo before and honestly, didn’t notice much of a difference between that and the usual, but it was still very good. I think I’ve said before that the Aladin is not licensed so we Prosecco in Tesco after the walk. As usual, if was a good meal, freshly cooked and very tasty.

 

Our feast at the Aladin
Our feast at the Aladin

I was pleased that Sheena enjoyed this walk as it was her first with David. I doubt it will be her last, and I’m glad that we had a good meal. They are so sweet in that restaurant. We were nursing our wine and they had to ask us to leave because they needed the table. If it was in a restaurant where I was paying for the wine, I would not have been crazy about leaving, but in the circumstances, we couldn’t really complain. We will be going back there again before too much longer, I have no doubt.

 

© Susan Shirley 2015

FORENSICS AT THE WELLCOME ORGANISATION

The Wellcome Collection is based at 183 Euston Road, London, NW1 2BE. It’s probably not correct to call it a museum, I don’t think it’s big enough for that, but there is always something going on there, and it has the most amazing library. It’s always worth a visit if you are close by.

There is currently an exhibition on, until 21 June, called “Forensics, The Anatomy of Crime.” I visited today with Bro and Ali. (Message to the two Paul’s – happy to visit again with you, if we can fit in a suitable date.)

The website describes the exhibition as:

‘Forensics: the anatomy of crime’ explores the history, science and art of forensic medicine. It travels from crime scene to courtroom, across centuries and continents, exploring the specialisms of those involved in the delicate processes of collecting, analysing and presenting medical evidence. It draws out the stories of victims, suspects and investigators of violent crimes, and our enduring cultural fascination with death and detection.’

The exhibition starts with ‘The Crime Scene.’ It shows how mock ups of crime scenes are used to train detectives how to investigate crimes, and has various photographs and artefacts of crime scenes. Naturally, there are exhibits relating to Jack the Ripper, amongst others.

Next is ‘The Morgue.’ This has a video recording of a mortician – there is another name but I can’t remember what it is – who assists the pathologist.   In fact, the mortician informed us that she does a lot of the jobs that we see the pathologist doing on NCIS or CSI or whatever. This section contains other exhibits as well, all related to death and pathology. One of the things I found really interesting was that the NHS monitors the way people die in the UK so that identify where NHS resources need to be focussed. Makes sense, I’d just never realised that before.

The third section is “The Laboratory.” The first true police crime laboratory was founded by Edmond Locard in Lyon, France in 1910. It was Locard who established the principle, “Every contact leaves a trace.” There are recorded interviews of some eminent forensic scientists, which are really interesting to listen to.

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Fourth is “The Search” which gives details of how some crimes were reconstructed, starting with the disappearance of Isabella Ruxton and Mary Rogerson in 1935. It was fascinating how, when the remains were found, the identification process was carried out. The murderer had removed all identifying features such as teeth, so existing photographs were superimposed on x-rays of the remains, indicating that they were one and the same. More recent cases included identification of bodies from the war in Bosnia and political prisoners in Chile. In Chile, people were searching for the remains of their loved ones for years. What I found most upsetting was a woman who had found her brother’s foot and she took it home with her, whilst it was still in the sock and shoe, and she cuddled it all night. I can’t begin to imagine how I’d feel or behave in those circumstances.

The final section in the exhibition is called “The Courtroom.” It does what it says on the tin; and included excerpts from various TV series or films which related to court scenes. I didn’t know that our modern system is based on the ancient Roman system. Reference was made in here to Dr Crippen and his conviction for the murder of his wife. What I hadn’t realised until I went to the exhibition was that there are doubts about whether Crippen actually did murder his wife. In fact, evidence found in 2007 proves that remains found beneath Crippen’s house were not those of his wife. It wouldn’t be the first time that there was a miscarriage of justice, would it? Ali told me as we were going around the exhibition that the third most common reason for someone being wrongly convicted is police incompetence. I don’t know whether that is the case with Dr Crippen but it is sad that someone was hanged for something they didn’t do.

The Royal Courts of Justice
The Royal Courts of Justice

To lighten the mood a bit, after we’d finished in the exhibition, we went for lunch in the restaurant on the second floor, known as the Wellcome Kitchen. I may have said before that I don’t eat wheat or gluten, and I have other food allergies, so we always have to check before we go anywhere that I will be ok. Nor do I eat red meat, which makes me a bit fussy, I suppose. What I liked was that when I asked for the bread to be removed from my chosen meal, there was absolutely no drama. (Believe me, some places do make a fuss about it, although probably fewer nowadays.)

The Wellcome Kitchen offered a two course meal for £12 and a three course meal for £17. Ali only wanted a main course; I opted for two and Bro went for three. Bro had soup to start – Broccoli and Feta cheese; I had a smoked duck salad. The soup was better when stirred, my salad was lovely.

Main courses: Ali had fish finger sandwiches with chips. “Sandwiches” is a slight misnomer; the fish fingers were in ciabatta. The tartar sauce was home made. Bro had a chicken burger with chips – the “burger” was a fillet of chicken. Me – I had halloumi with hummus, salad and chips. (Yes, we were all pigging out on chips today.) I was pretty impressed with the meal, with a bottle of wine; the total was about £60. Maybe a bit expensive for lunch, but I don’t normally have wine and a two course meal for lunch. I thought that was ok.

We all needed to get a few more steps in so we walked down to Kings Cross and popped into the Renaissance St Pancras on the way. The Renaissance was previously the Midland Grand Hotel (when it closed in 1935, it was used as railway offices). It re-opened as a hotel in 2011. One of the people working there advised us to go to see the red staircase, so we did.

The Red Staircase at the Renaissance St Pancras
The Red Staircase at the Renaissance St Pancras

Then we popped into St Pancras to have a chat to Sir John Betjeman.

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© Susan Shirley

SMILE

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I believe I have perfected the facial expression that says,

“You are an utter idiot and I fail to understand how you have survived to adulthood.”

I have had plenty of practice, and I have become rather adept at  delivering those withering glances to those who believe they are superior to me or think they might like to talk down to me. It is on these occasions that I wish I could use Skype to talk over the telephone. I have had quite a lot of “those” conversations recently.  However, I made a promise to myself when I started this blog that I would not become personally critical towards anyone.  Organisations, yes, individuals no; despite my patience being tried to the nth degree at the moment, not so much on a daily basis, more on an hour by hour basis.

I can tell now that everyone who knows me is thinking

“Does she mean so and so?”

Well, to put you out of your misery, yes, actually, I do.  All of those people.  I admit it, i do not suffer fools gladly.

Delivering such glances set me on a train of thought about non verbal communication.  How did we humans become so good at understanding a look?  Actually,  I seriously doubt that some people are good at it, because I were on the receiving end of that type of look, I’d have to do something about my behaviour but I’m going off the point again.

Apparently, humans make 21 different facial expressions as a matter of course, happiness, sadness, fear, disgust, surprise, to name but a few.

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In evolutionary terms, the smile is a new addition to the human facial expression repertoire. Other mammals don’t smile as such, even though as pet owners we may choose to believe otherwise.  (Believe me, if you have ever been on the receiving end of one of those looks from a cat when you have misbehaved, you will know that they can certainly scowl!)

Smiling is our nicest facial expression and is believed to have evolved from what is known as a “fear grin,” when primates bare their teeth to show predators that they are not a threat to them.

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The smile is a pretty much universal expression, people from all cultures and backgrounds do it but it doesn’t signify the same thing in all cultures. In the west, it is seen as a welcoming gesture, a sign of happiness or pleasure. It is also an attractive signal in females towards heterosexual males, although the reverse is not necessarily the case. In Japan, the smile may signify anger or confusion, and in other parts of Asia, it may be a sign of embarrassment.

There are genuine (Duchenne) smiles and non-genuine smiles, sometimes known as botox smiles. A true smile, a Duchenne smile, named after a French neurologist, is the one where the orbicularis oculi muscles are involved and where the corners of the mouth turn up. The orbicularis oculi raises the cheeks and forms the crow’s feet around the eyes (never mind!) The Botox smile is the one people use when they are not genuine or maybe just being polite. Or politicians. They use this one a lot.

It actually takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown, which is probably a good reason to smile more. It’s been proven that by changing our physiology, we can improve our mood, so there are lots of benefits to smiling. And there is something about a little baby and their smiles and laughter that, for me, makes it impossible for me not to smile too. In fact, seeing a baby smile and laugh usually makes me laugh too. It really is infectious. Laughing is good too, there are reports that it can help to improve our health.

Talking of laughter, a couple of weeks ago, I tried get my two little ones into the cat carriers to take them for their bi-annual check. I am not big on selfies but I wish I could actually have got to the camera in time. Little Rhea wrapped herself around my neck like a fur collar. I know it is immensely stressful for them (and there is usually blood drawn. Mine.) but it really made me laugh out loud. Cats may not be able to smile but they can surely leap a long way when they are trying to avoid being put in a pet carrier.

And finally, a huge reason to smile…. I’ve written about my dear friends, Kate and Geoff, and granddaughter Hari who was going to run the Rome Marathon in aid of leukaemia research…. Hari achieved it in 4 hours 13 minutes, and has raised £1648.47, 109% of her target. Well done Hari, I know how proud of you Kate and Grandad are. And good luck for the Great North Run.

 

https://www.justgiving.com/Hari-Rome-Marathon/

 

© Susan Shirley 2015

VODAFONE AND EASTENDERS

I haven’t finished writing about Eastenders yet, but before I start on that I must just “thank you” to Vodafone. Specifically, Jessy and Charlotte. This is how the story runs:

I tend to keep my mobiles on vibrate in the office. (Note to self, put the ringer on and then you won’t get so many complaints that you don’t answer your ‘phone.) I digress.

I have been receiving a number of missed calls, but if people don’t leave a message, I tend not to ring back, unless I recognise the number, and sometimes not even then. Monday, just after noon, the ‘phone went and this time I answered it.

“Hello, this is Dave from Vodafone. How are you today?”

“Not great, actually,” said I, “How can I help you?”

Dave put the ‘phone down on me. Hmm, I thought, that’s unusual for Vodafone. I rang back. There was a recorded message but it wasn’t very clear, something about partners and press 1 if you don’t want to receive anymore calls. I pressed 1. Then I went online to Vodafoneand asked for a “chat.”

Enter Jessy stage left. I explained what had happened, Jessy asked for the number, and checked told me that it wasn’t on their list of partner numbers, and that they had had a spate of people doing something fraudulent. After my recent experiences, I was extremely pleased that I had spoken to Jessy, and I am extremely pleased that I can warn anybody who reads this to be very, very careful. There are a lot of scammers out there. Anyway, as I was online, I asked Jessy if I could speak to someone about an early upgrade, so she put through to Charlotte.

Ladies and gentlemen, if I were in a senior position in Vodafone, Charlotte would be given a massive, massive pay rise! She very nearly sold ice to the Eskimos! Not that I’m an Eskimo, of course, but you take my point. There was no hard sell, she was lovely. We had a little chat (yes, Eastenders did feature!) while she was finding out what I wanted and how she could best suit my needs. There is a psychology behind this, and I know that, but it didn’t feel as though that was happening, so Charlotte was either very skilled or maybe she is just naturally good at selling. (Please get in contact Charlotte; I may have a little sales proposition for you, as a side line.)

I ended up with a ‘phone that I wanted that I didn’t think I could afford and it turns out I can. If I hadn’t had my sensible head on, Charlotte would have sold me more. I so wanted more, but I have to be sensible. Well done Charlotte and well done Vodafone. And I hope that she does get a pay rise as a result.

Now, back to Eastenders. Am I the only one who feels cheated that the murderer was Ben Mitchell? I take nothing away from the acting, particularly as it was live, but seriously? I was always taught, when writing fiction, that you should give the reader a few hints, and if the hints point to Colonel Mustard in the library with the lead pipe, the reader will feel cheated if it turns out to be the butler in the bedroom with the revolver. And that’s how I felt. At no time did I get a sense that Ben had  any feelings of animosity towards Lucy. In fact, the child doesn’t say very much at all.

Of course, we all knew that DC Summerhayes had met someone in the park, near the café, and said,

“But it’s still murder,”

so we knew it wasn’t someone that she was afraid of.  I imagine that was supposed to be Jane she was speaking to.

Then the writers threw us off the scent completely when she was killed. Ok, I know it wasn’t Nick Cotton’s fault that she died, she didn’t appear to be his target, although you’d never know with Nasty Nick, and he would have seen it as a result that he’d “offed a copper.”

And then there’s the return of Kathy Beale! What the…..? Talk about Bobby Ewing and his resurrection in Dallas!  That was daft enough.  I still have to watch the last couple of episodes of Eastenders on catch up (who am I trying to kid, I record it) so I don’t know how the plot has played out since Monday, but I shall watch with interest, I really will.  What on earth possesses a woman to not only walk away from her children (I can understand that, in some circumstances) but to allow them to think that she is dead for what?  Twenty years?  Who’s trying to fool whom?

I said in my last post that I do not think screen writing is easy and I still stick with that.  And I’m absolutely certain that to keep writing plots for the same programme week after week after week, keeping them fresh and keeping viewers interested is not easy either.  But come on now.  Let’s keep it real.  If writing were easy the whole world would be doing and there’d nothing in it for those of whom [some] editors think are good enough to write for their publications.

Will my displeasure at the recent storylines stop me watching Eastenders?  Probably not, they haven’t quite upset me enough for that yet, although I wouldn’t rule altogether.  There are a number of programmes I’ve loved and watched and then canned because I got bored.  Think Lost after the first series (I understand that ended being extremely unrealistic too), think Grays Anatomy, to name but two.  I’ve lived in the East end for a number of years now, although I am not, myself, an Eastender, and I think I know it pretty well now, so if the writers fancy a little break, I’m very happy to cover for them for a few weeks whilst they get their mojo back.

© Susan Shirley 2015E

EASTENDERS 30 YEARS ON

19 February 1985. What a day. The first ever episode of Eastenders was televised. Is it a coincidence that this year 19 February will be a Thursday, and that’s when they intend to answer the question, “Who killed Lucy Beale?” Ah, so maybe it wasn’t Abi Branning then?

Which of the ladies out there doesn’t love a soap opera? Come on, you can tell the truth, we’re all friends here. Ok, I’ll go first.

“My name is Susan and I am an Eastenders addict. I cannot miss an episode of Eastenders.”

I gave up on Corrie years ago, partly because I didn’t have time to keep watching it, and I stopped with Emmerdale when it Joe and Jack Sugden changing their boots for slippers when they’d come in from a hard days graft out there with the sheep. I always had a secret crush on Joe Sugden anyway, and it wasn’t the same after he left. I never did get into Brookside or Hollyoaks, although the occasional episode of Home and Away didn’t do me any harm. I seemed to miss Neighbours completely, although even I know about Scott and Charlene… Jason and Kylie.

This building was previously Bethnal Green Police Station
This building was previously Bethnal Green Police Station

Why do I like Eastenders so much then? Well, I think probably because, if ever I’m having a bad day, it makes me realise that my life just isn’t that bad. Ok, I’ve made some bad choices over the years, particularly where the male of the species is concerned, but I’ve never had a husband who murdered my ex, nor one who locked me in a basement and told my family that I’d committed suicide. Of course, I’m talking about Denise and Lucas. What a waste of a good looking man. You see, you’re beginning to feel better already aren’t you?

And I’ve never had a husband who’s shagged my son’s wife (actually, as I don’t have a son, that would be impossible, but it’s the thought that counts). That, of course, is Max and Stacey.

Then what about old James Willmott-Brown? Who remembers him? One time area manager for Luxford and Copley (the brewery that owns the Vic), he bought the Dagmar in Turpin Road and converted it into a wine bar. All was going well until Dirty Den got his villainous associates to interfere so the Dag started to fail as a business. Meanwhile back on the ranch, Willmott-Brown rapes Kathy Beale (there’s an awful lot of that rape business going on in Albert Square, I’d move if I lived there). As if that wasn’t enough, he came back three years later and tried to rekindle his “relationship” with Kathy. Now if that’s not enough to push you over the edge, so far that you end up marrying a Mitchell brother, what is? Again, I tell you, I am grateful for my life.

Houses in East London
Houses in East London

What about Sharongate? Come on, you must remember this one… Sharon and Grant were married but then she did the dirty deed with his brother Phil, to whom she is now married. Talk about keeping it in the family. Thinking about it, there aren’t too many of them who wear specs down in the square, so perhaps they all have eyesight problems and that’s why they end up with so many mismatched relationships?

Of course, I do watch other television programmes as well. I’m a big fan of NCIS with Mark Harmon (another mammoth crush) and little Hot Chocolate got me into NCIS LA. Rizzoli and Isles, Castle, The Closer, Midsomer Murders, the Inspector Alleyn Mysteries… Mm, my choices seem a trifle directional… I also love the comedies like Blackadder, Miranda and Outnumbered. In fact, I think Outnumbered was incredibly clever. If you haven’t seen it, I commend you to try to find it somewhere online or catch up. The kids actually ad libbed some of their lines when they were young, because, I suppose, children are immensely funny without meaning to be and it came across as more natural.

I love a good bit of telly and I admire screen writers. I’ve tried doing it and I find it one of the most boring processes that I have ever come across in my life. Or maybe I’m just not very good at it so I perceive it that way. It’s common sense, I suppose, but in screen writing, nothing is left to the imagination, as opposed to in a novel, when a lot isintentionally left to the imagination.

Maybe I just live an extraordinarily boring life, but I don’t have the kinds of dramas that happen in these TV shows. I have the odd bit of mugging, identity theft, a few problems with my teeth and cats and a bit of flooding under the house, but nothing really, so I like to take myself out of my own reality and put myself in someone else’s. Just for a little while, to make me realise that my problems are not that bad. Got to go now, Eastenders is just about to start.

 

© Susan Shirley 2015