Fun+

More fun with Microsoft Image Creator though admittedly some might just call it wasting time. Sometimes you have to play around with your instruction wording - refining it till the artificial intelligence gets closer to  a picture that you deem to be acceptable.

Here's Dave Northsider and JayCee from "Nobody's Diary", meeting up for the first time on The Sheep's Head Peninsula...

And here's hospice nurse John Gray taking a well earned break by the sea at Llandudno. He brought his faithful hound Dorothy in to work to cheer up the residents...

Below, it's a slightly spooky image of school librarian Steve Reed wondering where he has put his spectacles...

 

Dancing on a Florida beach, it's Mary Moon and Jennifer Barlow meeting up for the first time and clearly  having a ball. They may have been drinking wine. The instruction here was "acrylic"...

⦿

BERT NEWS

Bert is back home. Well, he has been back for three weeks now and I have visited him three times bearing gifts, including ready meals, "London Pride" beer and dark chocolate digestive biscuits.

He cannot get upstairs so he has got a hospital bed in the front room and a commode too. He has an aluminium walking frame which he finds hard to use because he has painful hands owing to past surgery upon them. They both contain pins. This is part of the legacy of a lifetime of hard manual labour.

Each time I have been to see him his youngest son Philip (aged 53) has been there with Bert's estranged wife Pat (aged 82) who can talk for England but she is rather  sweet-natured and pretty intelligent too.

Bert has carers coming in every day to attend to basic physical needs and a physiotherapist has also come in to encourage mobility. Some of this extra care will have to be paid for and Bert has received official forms to fill in in that regard.

It's nice to see him at home. I think the hospital was driving him crazy. At least now he has some peace and he seems more like himself. Surely he will make it to his 87th birthday in late November. I hope so.

Kiss

“And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.” 

- William Shakespeare "As You LIke It"

The Spanish Hit Parade

1. “Kiss” by Prince 
2. “This Kiss” by Faith Hill 
3. “Kiss The Girl” by Brent Morgan 
4. “Your Kiss Is On My List” by Daryl Hall & John Oates
5. “Kiss You All Over” by Exile 
6. “Kiss From A Rose” by Seal 
7. “Suck My Kiss” by Red Hot Chili Peppers
8. “Kiss Me More” by Doja Cat,
9. “One Kiss” by Calvin Harris & Dua Lipa 
10. “Good Kisser” by Oddball Observations
11. “Kiss The Girl” by Samuel E. Wright
12. “Kiss Me” by Dermot Kennedy 
13. “Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not?” by Thompson Square 
14. “I Kissed A Girl” by Katy Perry
15. “Last Kiss” by Taylor Swift

Last Sunday - it should have been the greatest day in the history of women's football in Spain. The national team had just beaten England in the final of The World Cup. But  the celebrations were spoilt by one arrogant, entitled man - the head of The Spanish Football Association - a 46 year old fellow called Luis Rubiales.

At the medal ceremony,  he grabbed one of the senior members of the squad - Jenni Hermoso. He rocked her up in his arms and clamped her head in his hands before kissing her full on the lips. If he had kissed her on the cheek there would have been no pushback but he crossed a line with that lip smacker.

With Trumpish arrogance, Rubiales first refused to apologise in an appropriate manner and as the heat of criticism has built up in Spain, he has angrily refused to resign. Incredibly, he has even claimed that the kiss was "consensual" when nobody saw him asking.

That simple stolen kiss has sparked much debate about the Spanish patriarchy in general and very sadly, it continues to distract attention from what Jenni Hermoso and her teammates achieved a week ago. They should be basking in the sunny glow of national pride having deservedly won the coveted trophy. Instead they are at the centre of a massive row.

Rubiales has got to go.

Noise

Two weeks ago a Romanian circus came to our local park. They had a big top and everything. The lights went down  and  introductory music blasted out over the sound system.

"I don't like it!" said Phoebe, lasting around two minutes in the unfamiliar space. 

She wanted to go back home to peace and quiet. In her short life she has never been one for loud noise and has sometimes covered her ears saying, "Noise!". Or if she is in our garden and hears a lawnmower starting up she will ask, "What's that noise?"

Today her parents took her over to The Lowry in Salford which is part of Greater Manchester. There was an exhibition devoted to the works of children's author Julia Donaldson and her illustrator Axel Scheffler. Above you can see Phoebe there in front of a large replica of the mouse in "The Gruffalo".

Phoebe is holding a bright orange dragon called Zog. She was mostly at The Lowry to see a theatrical version of the story of "Zog".

When the lights went down she again wanted to go home but fortunately the opening music wasn't too loud and with her mother's persuasion she soon settled down and enjoyed the show before being driven back over the hills to Sheffield.

She's a funny little sausage, developing a strong character and of course at two years and seven months she's not really a baby any more. I know I am totally biased and besotted with her but doesn't she look so very lovely in that top picture?

Dodger

Trump's mugshot - taken at Fulton County Jail in Georgia is kind of scary. The way he is looking into the camera with such venom, such revulsion - it's as if he wants to rip the cameraman or camerawoman to pieces. What lies behind those piercing eyes except self-importance?  There doesn't seem to be much else.

Writing under my pen name - Max Tribulatio, I wanted my new book to remind Trump's misguided and obstinate supporters that he chickened out of the Vietnam War. "Heel spurs" magically appeared and then disappeared at the very  time that he received his draft papers. What kind of true American patriot would wantonly dodge the draft like that when so many of his peers bravely did their duty? 

Thousands did not return but Trump didn't care because  he was okay. Now his vulgar red caps bear the legend "Make America Great Again". Isn't that rather rich coming from a draft dodger?

I expect that his disturbing, defiant mugshot will become part of history and will keep being seen long after he has been dropped into a hole in the ground.

In another twist, just as I am about to press "Publish", I notice with astonishment that Trump's fund-raising team and his most fanatical supporters are already starting to embrace the ugly mugshot as some sort of brand affirmation. This makes me all the happier that I immediately interpreted it in a very different way.

Chandrayaan

We are reliably informed that India's successful Chandrayaan-3 mission to the south pole of the moon was achieved with a relatively low budget - somewhere in the region of $85,000,000 US. This is far less than the cost of making a major big budget film.

India has proven itself to be a big player in advancing modern technologies, producing thousands of talented people who have contributed  enormously to innovation and development around the world. No wonder that Indian media outlets are currently bursting with national pride in relation to Chandrayaan-3.

Landing on the moon and undertaking several experiments there is a real feather in the cap of the Indian state - soon to become the most populous country in the world.

However,  was it worth it?  No doubt the success of the Chandrayaan-3 mission will lead to increasing costs as further space projects are conceived in its wake.

There are some pertinent truths about India that should probably be reflected upon in the  present excitement. Firstly, a fifth of the population still live in dire poverty - unable to access sufficient food, clean water or  proper healthcare.

Britain gave an estimated £2.3 billion to India in aid between 2016 and 2021. even though India is home to  almost 800,000 dollar millionaires. It is very much a land of haves and have-nots with the poorest of the poor still living in abysmal conditions.

Some might say that this presents a moral dilemma for India. How can so many millions be spent on space projects with the related application of enormous ingenuity and energy when poverty remains rife?

Ask a poor Indian family what they would prefer - food on the table, clean water and a safe place to live or news of a rocket landing on the moon.  Any future benefits of the mission have not been spelt out.

8:42

One of the great benefits of retirement is that one's mornings are not ruled by the clock. I can still remember when I felt like a white rat in a laboratory experiment. Every morning the alarm triggered the same reaction. Doze a little bit longer listening to the radio then "Up!". Ablutions. Get Dressed. Race Downstairs. Swift breakfast including scalding tea. Kiss wife. Grab keys and bag then out into the morning where it was always 7.52 when I turned the ignition key.

Nowadays I tend to get eight hours sleep no matter what time I go to bed. I rise in a leisurely manner, don my dressing gown (American: robe) and drift downstairs to make a pint of tea and whichever breakfast I desire - perhaps mini wheats, porridge, toast with a banana or boiled eggs. Then it's on to the computer  to check blogs and what not. I might not take my shower until ten or eleven.

Today it was different. After waking at six, I went back into the nether land that we call sleep and when I next opened my eyes it was 8:42. 8:42! Oh dear! I was up and into overdrive as in the not-so-good old days of work. Ablutions including shower. Dressed. No time for breakfast then out to my pal Clint who was surprised to be stirred so early. I was parked outside Frances's house at bang on 9.00.

I was driving her to the hospital.

When I dropped her off, I told her that I would be in a nearby pub until 10.30 and if her appointment was short she should come over and join me. The pub in question was "The Francis Newton" - part of the nationwide Weatherspoon chain. I ordered a traditional breakfast and tea which I consumed before dipping back into the book I am currently reading - by Raynor Winn.

Frances didn't arrive. She was in the hospital for almost three hours and as you might imagine she had to have more blood tests and meet with the head honcho in the haematology department. 

Fortunately, the platelet count had risen significantly - almost reaching a "normal" score. Immediate panic over but she will be back for another blood test next week. Platelets are clearly an issue for her in pregnancy and she bled a lot when Phoebe was born.

In the meantime, it was all a big relief for Shirley and I so we took that beloved brave daughter to "The Rising Sun" on Abbey Lane for lunch. It was quite busy in there - mostly retirees - but we didn't mind waiting.

Later, Ian sent over the latest scan of the baby that he and Sarah will be meeting for the first time in October. He really looks like a proper baby now. He was smiling at me with his little fist clenched in the manner of  a revolutionary. He will be called Zachary or more often Zach for short and he will be loved and cherished as all babies should be.

Problems

Platelets

Not too long ago, I reported exclusively in this blog that I was suffering from back pain - almost certainly caused by over-enthusiasm when starting the business of lifting old decking boards in our back garden (American: yard).

I listened to the warning my body was screaming at me and ceased the work immediately. Gradually, the pain drifted away as I rested and took care of myself - including gentle  back exercises and short country walks. Yesterday, I felt healed enough to get back to the decking project. I lifted a further ten boards and a dozen today - mostly using a crow bar, a big slice of ingenuity and a pair of work gloves. I did not overdo the muscle power I needed to apply.

In total, thirty two boards have been removed. They had been down for twenty years. As half expected, all is not well with the structural undercarriage. Though some of the joists and noggins are in good shape six or seven of them may as well be totally replaced. One or two of these pieces of wood look as if they have just been lifted from the bottom of the ocean - from the wreckage of The Spanish Armada.

Figuring out how to make the renovated structure solid and level without all the desirable tools will prove a challenge to a bookish man like me but to tell you the truth, I have always gained satisfaction from completing practical tasks like this one. I know it needs to be done and that I will get there in the end. Good dry days would help and of course I will be looking after my back.

Moving to a very different, unconnected subject... Our lovely daughter Frances is seven months pregnant and already fit to burst.  It is of course a joyous time but something has cropped up that makes me feel a degree of anxiety.

Her platelet count has plunged very low. Nearly all pregnant women experience a reduced platelet count but Frances's reduction is severe. The count plunged very  low when Phoebe was about to be born but this count is already so low that Frances is being called into hospital tomorrow. There may need to be some sort of intervention. If you didn't know, a healthy platelet count is vital for blood clotting.

Normally, a mother's platelet count will zoom back up soon after a birth but there can be complications if the count is really low at the time of the birth. The good thing is that both the maternity hospital and the haematology department at the main hospital  know about her issue and will be there to support her. I have read quite a bit about the condition and possible interventions - courtesy of our good friend Dr Google.

Frances herself seems quite relaxed about the matter so I guess that I am doing her fretting for her - silly old fool that I am.