Kitty Chat

I am seated in my brown velveteen armchair (circa probably 1986) here in the séjour; both big windows are wide open letting in the birdsong, the rustling of the trees and the light. Today is Wednesday, the boys have just left, today has been an ‘early’ day for them, Séverine dropping them off at 8.30 am and Xavier picking them up at 1 pm. This was the last Wednesday I will watch them until September rolls back around. I’m rather going to miss ‘my boys’ and their constant French patter, I know my girls will miss them as well.

I did steak hachée, peas, mashed potatoes and gravy for the girl’s lunch while I had a salad with chèvre and an extremely spicy vinaigrette I concocted. Wow, is my mouth ever humming now. I made it with some of the garlic pickle I got from Ruby’s shop. Amazing, I am almost out of the stuff; I scarf some garlic pickle almost every day. I am sure I reek of garlic 24/7. On the other hand, I haven’t been approached by any vampires lately…

It’s a beautiful afternoon. I can hear my girls downstairs playing on their bikes; they are pedalling up the tarmac drive going around the apartment block and then coming down the gravel path, around and around, laughing and shouting for me to watch. Yes, darlings, I see you. This is great, all this cycling will wear them out and maybe they will go to sleep early tonight. My laundry is hanging out on the line, alternately drying in the hot sun and getting soaked with the frequent, sudden downpours that are happening every half hour or so. I am leaving the clothes out there because mainly I can’t be arsed to drag it all back in and also I figure, well, this is Brittany, the rain won’t last long. Isn’t rainwater supposed to be a softener anyway? Sounds good to me, I think I can remember my Mom saying something about that, rainwater is supposed to leave your clothes softer. I’ll stay ignorant either way and pretend…

A light breeze is blowing through, I can smell Giselle’s cooking from upstairs, hmmm, a roast pork joint I believe, or it could be turkey. I’ll go with pork as it’s on sale at Intermarché in the Foire du Porc, or at least it was last week.

I think that the meat here in France, even though it is of extremely high quality, is also tremendously expensive… unless you are able to avail yourself of the frequent sales and stock up or buy a half a cow or lamb or such. However, this line of reasoning necessitates something a bit more grandiose than the average domestic freezer. I could not possible get even a half of a leg of lamb in my freezer, I have ice cubes and huge bags of chouxfleur, haricot vert and petite pois in there. Plus all that frozen steak hacheé and sweet butter and frozen flour...

Huh? Why do I freeze my flour? You really want to know? OK, but you are going to hate this…

Almost all flour has something with the eggs of the beetle family Tenebrionidae genus Tribolium in it. They get into the flour at the mill; you just cannot get rid of them. These tiny miniscule eggs are in the flour, like it or not… and will, eventually, hatch into little weevil-like bugs. If you freeze your flour as soon as you get it from the shop, it kills the eggs development and they never hatch out. The heat of the oven will cook them anyway, the eggs, that is. My Mother always said to think of it as an additional source of protein…

I told you that you wouldn’t like it…

Well… today is my last Wednesday with the boys for a while. This is the last week of classes for schoolchildren here in France; holiday starts for them and ends for me, so to speak. The boys are going to spend a week with their Grand-maman in Brest, my children and I are tentatively planning a visit to the UK. Tentatively being the operative word in that statement.

I have to admit to being more than a bit apprehensive because I will have to stay in the family home… which is where my ex lives. I suppose I will just have to get in a Queen Bodicea frame of mind and gird my loins and be ready to fight, if need be. I just don’t need the stress, really, if truth be told. However, the only way I am going to get the UK house on the market is if I physically go up there and do it myself. I am NOT looking forward to dealing with ex… on the other hand, I AM looking forward to shopping at Boots and Tesco Extra. I am especially looking forward to going to my favourite brassiere shop, being measured and getting some decent bras. Plus shopping at the Liz Claiborne Outlet and being able to buy real ‘Liz’ instead of Plus Size ‘Elizabeth’.

I guess, if I look at this as an opportunity instead of something that I am dreading doing, it would help.

Never mind, I am blissfully happy because I feel that I have finally managed to get rid of some blockages that have been affecting my personal life. Being able to talk out some different things, difficulties, confusions and misunderstandings; that has been extremely beneficial to my emotional state of mind. I am so grateful to having been given the opportunity to do this. Silly how everything can change for me in the space of 30 minutes of talking...

Oh! And I am NOW AT 82 kg!!!!

So. Happy, happy Kitty!!! (If I could do back flips, I would)

Truth is not always what is right or good or best. Truth is relative. It is about timing. It is about what is safe. It is the luxury of the privileged. Truth can destroy; therefore, it is not always wise or even healthy to be truthful.
Patricia Cornwell - 'The Last Precinct'

How to explain truth to people who don’t want to know it? How best to gift-wrap it so it can be accepted? I think about this when I consider the events surrounding the death of my Father.

I got a phone call from my Mom, the hospital wanted to talk to me. ‘Is it bad, Mom?’ She didn’t know. I conferred with the Hospital, yes as I feared, he is headed toward multi-organ failure, and it is only a matter of time, days, hours, or weeks, perhaps. My Father had taken a turn for the worse, now was the time to come if I wanted to see him alive. I made hasty arrangements and we flew out to the States arriving the day before Thanksgiving 2000. Mom picked us up at the airport in Orlando and we drove straight to my parent’s house. We only paused long enough to drop off our cases and then went straight to the hospital where my Father had been hospitalized for over a year. Dad wasn’t in great shape, as can be expected with kidney failure, he had been on dialysis since September ’98 and his health had been slowly going downhill. The Physician in charge had summoned us from the UK because Dad was ‘holding on’ to see me and, as he put it, ‘it won’t be long’…

We had a good meeting as the hospital staff let my girls in to see Dad, which is slightly against rules because of their age, but as he was a long-term resident and had a private room, they could see no reason why not. They were very good, both girls, my elder daughter was delightful, telling silly jokes and the younger, even though just eleven months, was ‘cruising’ around the room, holding onto furniture, so we all had a laugh about that. Dad was quite weak, but even so, he managed to see us for two hours before he just needed to rest. He was able to talk, but the effort just got too much, so we decided to leave him be and come back after we had had Thanksgiving Lunch/Dinner the next day.

We were staying with my Mom so went back to hers. I was jet-lagged and not thinking straight anyway so I just crashed with my youngest (who was still-breastfeeding) so I could be up early to help with the food Mom wanted to prepare as we were having the big dinner at my cousin’s house. My husband and sister decided to stay up and talk while my eldest discovered the joys of the Disney Channel and ‘Roly Poly Ollie’.

I was startled awake the next morning at 6am by the phone ringing. I staggered to the phone and was presented with the news that my Dad was having difficulty breathing, what did I want done? I didn’t understand. ‘If we don’t do anything he will die from asphyxiation or we can assist him breathing by giving him a trach. This will prolong his life until he has multiple-organ failure.’ I was speechless, I needed to make the decision if my father was to die or live and I needed to make it fast. ‘Doesn’t he have a Living Will? What has been decided between my parents?’ Nothing had been decided and there was no Living Will. Great. I shouted the house awake asking my Mother and sister what they wanted. What did Dad want? Both of them were in denial, my sister going on about Dad walking her down the aisle ‘someday’, my Mother crying that this couldn’t possibly be right he was just a little sick and he would be home soon.

No. When you get to the point where your body is having organ failure, it means the end is near. I had already accepted the truth; that my Father was dying and there was nothing that could be done. That’s why I was here, to say goodbye. But my sister and Mother were miles away from acceptance. I knew in my heart that my father would want to be allowed to die but also knew that there was no way my Mom could adjust, there were too many issues, insurance, details that had never been taken care of because Mom always doggedly thought Dad would come home one day. My sister wasn’t mentally capable to believe otherwise. So standing there with my sister and Mom in hysterics, I made the awful and selfish decision as someone had to…

“Help him breathe.”

My Dad was truly upset over that decision, as he wanted to die. He wanted to know why, the next day, when we sat together in private, why I had ‘let them’ help him breathe, why didn’t I let him die naturally? Didn’t I realise he wanted to die? I explained that I didn’t do it for him, I did it for Mom, for my sister and that I was deeply sorry that he had to suffer. I asked him directly if he knew he was dying, he nodded, tears came to his eyes. He mouthed, ‘Of course’ as he could no longer speak because of the trach. I felt just awful. I didn’t want to do this to this wonderful man, but I had no choice, the living had to take precedence. Horrible really, isn’t it? I then spent the next week going around to the different agencies with my Mother, helping her prepare for his death, notifying people, setting out a Living Will, setting up a cremation at the Funeral Home, getting her Power of Attorney. Helping my Mom come to acceptance about my Father’s eventual death.

So, I have felt guilty ever since because my decision really did cause him to suffer. On the other hand, it also allowed all of us to say goodbye to each other. I was always cool with my Dad and said my final goodbye the day we went back to the UK. ‘Dad, you know we will never see each other again, don’t you?’ He nodded sadly, as tears ran down both our faces. ‘But you also know that even though you die, you will still go on. I am here, so is my sister and you have three beautiful grandchildren… so a little part of you goes into the future.’ He mouthed a ‘thank you’, squeezing my hand and smiling. We looked at each other for a long time, crying, remembering our life together and finally smiling. It was so hard to say goodbye, as I was positively certain we would never see each other again, not in this life, so I asked him to come see me when he died, ‘like Grand-daddy did.’ He rasped out a painful, ‘I love you’, I gave him a hug and a kiss then looked into his eyes and said I loved him as well, and always would. Then I left the room, overcome with grief for this magnificent man, my Daddy.

He lasted another 2 ½ months and I am ashamed to say, the end of it was hideously painful for him. But, I am also not ashamed to say that were the decision mine to make again… it would be the same one. I saw my Mom and sister as the ones who were needier in that particular situation. I believe they would have suffered much more than my Dad did. Still, it will ever pain me that the decision had to be made at all, in a situation like that, a Living Will needs to be in place. However, in order for a Living Will to be in place, acceptance of the inevitable has to happen. Acceptance of reality.

There is a point where you just reach acceptance. This is how this situation is, this is how it is playing out and there is nothing you can do, emotionally, physically or sensibly to affect the result. You stop struggling. Stop ranting and railing over it. You finally stop obsessing over it. You just let it occur. ‘This is how this is. Yesterday was different, tomorrow most likely will be as well but the now is this. Period.’

I find it a struggle to accept things as they are. I feel that I should be able to effect a change, which will somehow make things go differently. There have been many things lately I have been struggling with, on a personal basis, trying to get to the point of acceptance. I almost get there and then I backslide. It is extremely annoying; to those around me, I am sure, as well as frustrating to myself. However, with one situation I think I have finally been able to make peace. There is nothing for me to do but chill out, calm down and step back… at least until later in the year. Then see what the reality is then.

If the dream is big enough... the reality doesn't matter....

Sigh…

Right... In my next life, I would like to be a lot less bloody pig-headed, please. Oh yeah, and since there is a wish list, I would like to have fabulously wealthy parents who set me up with a sizable trust fund so I never need worry about money and which allows me to do Philanthropic work. Things that I personally find important such as Adult literacy, AIDS education, proper nutrition for children and the right for everyone on the planet to access clean water.

Failing being rich and altruistic, I would love to have not any other care in the world besides wondering where I should holiday next, touching up my French manicure or counting how many shades of beige I have in my wardrobe…

Gosh, if that’s the case, better ask to be blonde as well then, huh?

I feel like I just won the lottery, woke up in Meg Ryan's body at the George V in Paris in bed with some famous French Film star and found out I am 29 again....

Honestly. I could not be happier if you walked up to me and gave me the leading role in Steven Spielberg's next movie.

I feel better than a Godiva Champagne Truffle....

This is a major feel good moment if Kitty feels better than chocolate....

Happy, happy, happy Kitty....

Wow.... thank you!

These past few days have been absolute hell for me, personally.

It all started with a phone call from soon-to-be ex on Friday, late afternoon. He has received the paperwork for the Decree Nisi, the final, final stage in the divorce. He said he has decided to renege on all that we had agreed on, everything he said he would do since Christmas and has vindictively decided to involve certain other members of mine and his family. This screws me to the wall. Now my property settlement is in danger, the sale of the UK house I am depending on goes awry and quite a few corners will certainly choose to dump on me. Not to mention I now need to seek independent legal advice and instruct my own solicitor.

Panic stations for me. This leaves me frantically trying to make contact with people who I have no way of reaching so spend Friday night, all day Saturday and most of Sunday texting people, making phone calls, getting message machines and generally not having a lot of success other than using up all my phone credit… something I can ill afford to do right now.

I feel sick. I have all weekend. I am dizzy and my heart hurts, dammit. I feel like a bowstring that has been pulled too taught with nothing to do, nowhere to focus my aim. My diet went to hell as I ate an entire fougasse with lardons and gruyère cheese on Saturday. (Carbs are my Achilles’ heel. I know it; I tried to stop myself but… no use. Bloody tasted lovely but now I am pissed off at myself.) So, if the guy is trying to get custody of the girls by killing me off through stress, he is doing a damn good job of it. At least I have documented his harassment of me on the web in this Blog. Grim thought but…

So, at the end of Sunday afternoon, I decided that all I could do is throw up my hands and let the chips fall where they may, I have tried to do what I can but have failed, again, miserably.

Happen to call Lee, my friend who is being Miss Manners, trying to explain social etiquette and proper behaviour to my ex. The words ‘Bang, Head and Brick Wall’ spring to mind. My ex just happens to be there. Get a 5-minute ear bashing from ex, talk to Lee, get another 5-minute ear bashing from ex and then get hung up on. Sigh. Two hours later Lee calls back. ‘He wants to know is there any chance you two will ever get back together again?’ Erm, which part of NO is he having trouble with? Can you please talk some sense into him? Well, can you try? Get him just to sign the paperwork, not change anything and send it into the Courts, please? So, at the end of the conversation late Sunday night, where we left it, was that Lee is going to try…

I am only weeks away from the divorce being final, why screw it up now? You do this to me buckaroo; I will go back in and want alimony, child support, the family home, and your cogs on a silver salver. You don’t really want to screw with Kitty, you know, she has claws…

So here I sit, 3 am Monday morning. Wide-awake in part due to how I feel and in part because of this fantastic sound and light show outside, a pugilism Céleste. Never in my entire life have I witnessed so much heat lightening and thunder. Not even in the Lightening Capitol of the World, New Mexico. The sky has gone from gentle rumblings through soft rain and flashes every minute or so to how it is now, driving rain and hail, and lightening constantly, not even a second’s pause between, amazing. Since I can’t sleep, I might as well be doing something constructive so I am Blogging. Later today, I will call the Courthouse to see if this monkey wrench can be extracted from the works and then call the Solicitor on Friday. In the meantime, all I can do is wait and hope the right people, the people who can help me avoid this situation get back to me.

Oh yeah, and pray.

I suppose I should discuss the real reason why I finally decided to lose weight since I am already miserable as it is. It’s a depressing reason, but I need another big emotional cleansing. So it might be hard to read, maybe not, depends if this subject has ever touched your life or someone you know.

OK, here goes.

December 2000 I found out I was pregnant. We had just come back from Florida from visiting my Dad in the hospital as he was dying of Kidney failure. I called to tell him the news, even though it was very early, the test was positive. He was overjoyed, as was my Mom, and promised to keep it under their hats until I had amniocentesis. (To date I have been pregnant ten times, resulting in three live births.) I knew the risks: at 21 stones something, I was severely overweight, I have had heart problems, three caesareans, DVT and I am asthmatic. Nevertheless, we were overjoyed, as I had wanted another child ever since my youngest daughter was born.

Valentines Day, my Dad died of multiple organ failure, I was devastated as even though we went out before he had gotten real bad the three months prior, so he could see the girls, I wasn’t there when he died. My Mom didn’t cope well, she really started going downhill herself at that point. I was so far away and just tried to help as best I could but ended up not being anything but ineffective, I’m sure.

Then I miscarried late February, 2001. A direct result of not only stress, but also being just too damn fat to carry the baby. I really beat myself up over this one but ignored all advice to lose weight and just kept comfort eating and working like a dog. I didn’t tell my Mom I had lost the baby and as her brain cancer advanced, she ‘forgot’ about it. I just couldn’t take that joy of having another grandchild away from her, she loved her grandchildren so much…

Then Mom died...

My Doctor said to leave it awhile so we started trying again the next year. Nothing. I finally decided to listen to reason and went to see a nutritionist who put me on a low-fat diet using prescribed diet pills (Reductil) in spring 2003 and I lost just over a stone or so by basically starving myself to death. Low-fat sucks. Then my own doctor recommended Atkins, I started that in mid-October 2003 and I haven’t looked back, weight wise at least…

I fell pregnant again late October 2003. I told no one, it was strictly between myself and my brilliant Doctor. I didn't even tell my husband as I was afraid to do so, afraid I would ‘jinx’ it. That pregnancy lasted just six weeks after the positive test. Again, at the weight I was at, it was impossible to sustain a pregnancy, at least a viable pregnancy. I guess that was the final straw, losing that particular pregnancy, I knew that I had to lose weight; I owed it to any future child. And should I never, ever be blessed with another child, I have no one to blame but myself…

I suppose it might be easy to see why my own three children are so precious to me, even more so because they are actually here and alive. I also know that if I had been more mindful of my Doctor’s advice, I might just have another child here with me. Maybe my husband I would not have split up if that had been the case. Maybe I would just be in even deeper do-do, I don’t know. It’s also never good to say, ‘If only’ as so many factors affect our lives, so many variables.

So that is the real reason why I finally started losing this excess weight, because I so desperately wanted another child. I am continuing now for other reasons, my health mainly but also because I really want to be gorgeous at some point before I die.

A shallow reason, perhaps, but at least its honest.

On Wednesday night, I changed over my 12 GB HDD to a 20 GB HDD. So I now have this nice, clean system with Windows XP Pro FD la-de-dah Deluxe and Office 2003 on my laptop with my old Win98 system sitting in a caddy attached via a USB plug. Why did this make me feel so proud of myself for doing it all by myself? It was only a total of three screws, changing over a trim, nothing intellectual like writing a program or even anything remotely difficult like that, actually, any of my children could have done it.

But I did it.

And no, I will not be sending my CV to Apple Cor(e)p now...

On the other hand, this A1200 is sitting here staring at me...

Don't you hate it when inanimate objects stare at you?

I’m tired. I’m feeling like the Ugly Duckling tonight who everyone poked fun at. Now I know I am not an Ugly Duckling, I know I am pretty or prettier than I was, I should say. But I also know that some will look at me and think, “Ewww… Now, Kitty is what you call Coyote-Ugly and is definitely a two-bagger girl, two in case the first one falls off…” They just wouldn’t say it to my face. Actually, some would, come to think of it…

I feel like Cinderella with her horrid, mean, vengeful, spiteful, but oh-so-rich Ugly Step-Sisters going to the Ball and not me. And my Fairy Godmother ran off to San Francisco so I am stuck at home, sitting in my rags by the fire, penniless, watching the Ball from the window as the Ugly Step-Sisters dance with, charm and win the handsome Prince, who actually should be mine… if only Fairy Tales were true.

But, Fairy Tales aren’t true.

It’s not good to be jealous, but I am.

Well, once again, I have hit a plateau in my weight loss. I am stuck at 83kg and no matter what I try to do; the scale just refuses to budge. It really has gotten to the point where I am wondering just how little I can consume food-wise per day. I have also cut right back on the alcohol, just don’t fancy it anyway; I prefer to drink water now, of an evening.

‘So, what’s the problem?’ I am thinking… Oh crap, I am doing that annoying Blog thing where you ask a question and then answer it yourself. In fact I do it all through this particular Blog. Well, it’s not because I am some wise Swami or Guru, it’s just I know a lot about this subject, Biology and all that. Plus, I Googled and Oxford Science Dictionary’d what I was unsure on. So, I am not trying to make out as if I am some Clever Cat, I’m not. (I am also not purporting to be well educated, fabulous or erudite; I’m just an average Joe… or Jane. In fact, I have never seen or read LOTR because I feel I am not intelligent enough to understand it, all that convoluted Tolkien Middle Earth stuff, heavens. I will eventually need to read it though, just so I can understand, ‘Why not a catapult?’ ( )So where did that come from Kitty? Why do you feel the need to defend yourself? Besides feeling inept and incompetent but still wanting people to like you? Crap, there I go again…)

Right, that inadequately explained; let’s move on to the fascinating subject of Calories, Basal Metabolic Rate and Dietary Thermogenesis.

OK. So I have now decreased my food intake to one ‘real meal’ spread out over a day. I have Psyllium husks mixed with Apple juice and water for breakfast along with a couple cups of Decaf with cream. (Now before you say now’t, if I DON’T do all this Psyllium husk nonsense, I won’t be able to, erm, move the waste along, so to speak, as I am consuming so few grams of carbs/fibre.) For lunch, I am having first the Psyllium husks then a plain can of tuna or sardines or possibly a wedge of brie with some mixed salad greens dressed with a spicy chile dressing I make myself. At night, I have even more Psyllium husks and then maybe something like Thai fish and veg or Chèvre and salad, but usually I just skip the meal. I feed the girls and busy myself in the kitchen making their dessert and doing the washing up as they eat, so I don’t miss having the meal since I’m occupied doing something else, if you see what I mean. I am keeping my Carbs at or below 30gms a day. So it’s honestly not as if I am stuffing my face with food. So why is my weight staying the same, dammit? (OK, ready for the Blog answer?)

The only reason I can find is that I have lowered my Basal Metabolic Rate. BMR is the amount of heat energy need just to survive. How many calories you need a day even if you were in a coma. The body is a fascinating thing. If it believes that you are starving or going through a famine, it will change how you metabolise your food nutrients, conserving energy so to require less food so to therefore preserve your life. My body just hasn’t realised that the fully packed saddlebags I am carrying are actually what masquerade as my hips, tummy and thighs. When following any weight loss regime, the more you lose and the closer you get to goal weight, the harder it becomes to shed the last few pounds. So as I am on my last 18kg/40 pounds/2 stones 12 pounds, I am finding it dead hard to even loose so much as a pound. I have certainly not been this ‘slim’ in years. I’m not really ‘slim’, I mean that in comparison to how I was, I am still a flabby 40 pounds overweight, completely out of shape and it certainly looks like it, especially from the side. Up until now, a major source of my exercise was just moving my massive body about. Since losing 93 pounds or so, I no longer have that weight exerting its influence on me. I feel miles better for it as well. Even so, my Body wants to hold on to this last little bit of fat just in case there is another sudden Ice Age while my Mind wants to dump it as it envisions me in a tight, sleeveless, size 10, little black dress. With the accompanying lacy, racy bra and knickers to go with it… Yes, please.

I guess Mind and I will just have to try to trick Body into using up this last bit of fat. I can’t really change the BMR in and of itself unless I build muscles, as muscle is ‘metabolically active’, even at rest, much more so than any other body tissue. I have started on building the muscle now with the upper body malarkey, but it will be weeks before I notice any change there I am sure.

Eating Chile/Chilli or foods that are hot and spicy is also supposed to cause a temporary rise in the metabolic rate by up to 50% for up to 3 hours after you’ve eaten a spicy meal. You know how you get those little sweat beads along your forehead after a good Indian meal? That’s the raised metabolism kicking in. Drinks containing caffeine also stimulate the metabolism and plain green tea does as well. I eat loads of chile and cayenne; in fact, I have cayenne pepper on the table as a condiment and use it as much as I use salt or pepper. On the other hand, caffeine is pretty much verboten on Atkins although I DO have a full-caffeine-whack petite crème at La Grand Café whenever I go there. Maybe I need to start drinking green tea at lunch.

I found this on Dietary Thermogenesis and thought it interesting: There is some evidence to suggest that eating small, regular meals will keep your metabolism going faster than larger, less frequent meals. There are two reasons why meal frequency may affect your metabolism. Firstly, levels of thyroid hormones begin to drop within hours of eating a meal, and metabolism slows. Secondly, it may be that the thermogenic effect of eating several small meals is slightly higher than eating the same amount of calories all at once. Oh goody. I can treat myself to more Psyllium husks or brie for Elevensies and Tea.

I need to drink more water. Everyone needs about 3-4 litres of water a day and I know I don’t get anywhere near that much. And that’s plain water, all those cups of decaf don’t count.

Finally, I need to get moving more. Even fidgeting will help somewhat as it is, after all, an activity. I have been lax in my morning walk around Kleg for the last couple of weeks as I have been in Pontivy almost every weekday and don’t have the time to do both. I need to make that morning walk more of a priority. Ok, I will start that tomorrow, Friday, for sure.

So, I will really put into practice all these ideas, and see what I come up with after a week of small and frequent meals, extra spicy food, more water, more movement and more muscle-building exercise. And NO Sangria…

I am sitting here writing this as my daughters watch La Petite Sirène for the zillionth time. It is one of the DVDs I retrieved from the caravan a couple months back, the girls haven’t watched it for almost a year, and it’s all in French. My youngest announced to me with an incredulous look on her face, after seeing it again a month or so ago, “Mummy!! I know what they are saying, in my head!” This was the turning point for her; she is now absolutely comfortable using both languages. It’s funny, until she made the link; she was dead shy, now she is very outgoing. Still cheeky as the day is long, but much more confident. Confident enough to sneak her ‘kid-safe’ scissors last night and cut her own fringe as well. So the front is now about, oh, 2-3 cm long… and sticks straight up…

My older daughter has turned into a real bookworm and devours anything in either language. Now I wish I had gotten her a French or English magazine subscription, I will have to do that for September. She would much rather sit and read a book than go outside and play, I have to force her outside a lot of the time. Lordy, lordy, thank God we don’t have X-Box or PlayStation. (Although Kitty remembers fondly playing Earthworm Jim and SimCity back in ’95… I bet Computer Games are a heck of a lot more sophisticated now. Please don’t guffaw at me as I lead a sheltered life. I would still happily play Pong or Pac Man or even Space Invaders. [Chut-chut-chut-chut…] I used to hear that in my sleep after playing Space Invaders until about 4 am….)

I was browsing some other Blogs and it seems everyone has up listings of their favourite music and movies, etc. I don’t watch a lot of movies, just never got in the habit, I guess, so I don’t have a huge base I can choose from. Music, on the other hand, I listen to all the time and I have very definite likes and dislikes. So, let me start with movies. I’ll do music another time. This is a listing of my most memorable movies. I wonder if there is a theme…

Antonia’s Line. The movie starts in a room with an older woman in bed, dying. Her family and friends surround her and, as an observer; you just look on as the narration describes the grieving people in the room, rather dispassionately. Then the story goes back in time. Antonia, the old woman, is now a young mother with a young daughter. It is wartime. The soldiers rape the daughter. Antonia kills one of them with a hayfork after making him into a soprano. (Ahem.) The daughter gives birth to a baby girl; this baby grows up, marries and has a daughter. So it is the story of Antonia’s family. But you get so wound into the lives, the family and Antonia herself, that at the end, when the same exact scene from the beginning occurs, Antonia decides it is time to die, you are crying along with everyone else in the family. Honestly, I bawled my eyes out. The surprise at the end is the narration is actually from the point of view of the great-granddaughter. Brilliant film and I highly recommend it as a study of interesting lives interwoven.

Robbie the Reindeer – Hooves of Fire. This Claymation piece was created for Comic Relief 1999. It’s wicked funny and has some great voices doing the characters. It’s the story of a red-nosed reindeer, son of another famous navigator, who has come to Santa’s workshop for some character building, as he is easily distracted. Who will win the Reindeer Games? (Sponsored by Hay, The Official Snack Food of the Reindeer Games…) My girls love watching it and so do I. Robbie Williams does the narration and then sings ‘Come Fly with Me’ at the end, one of my favourite songs, one that has special and poignant meaning to me in many ways. I used to sing that particular song as I walked home from work at The City Barge in Chiswick. I would go strolling down the towpath along Strand on the Green, (that is, when the tide wasn’t in,) singing that song along with ‘I Get a Kick out of You’ and ‘Rainbow Connection’ at about 2 am after working a boozy lock-in. (Time Gentlemen, please, dontcha got no homes to go to?) Oi! You! Shaddup! Bloody noisy Americans…

French Kiss. Awww. Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline in Paris (need I say more?) Such a sweet movie… all these complications then she falls in love with him and gives him her inheritance so he can follow his dream but does it in such a way that he doesn’t know it is her that did it. (Kitty is now reaching for the Kleenex) Then sacrifices herself by leaving because she loves him so much and doesn’t think he loves her but just wants him to be happy and fulfilled. (Sob!) But he finds out, finally grasps at long last, that he DOES love her and can’t possibly live without her so goes and gets her before she can go back to the States. (Yeah! Sniff!) Then the dénouement as they walk through THEIR vineyard hand in hand, smiling at each other, I always watch that bit through a veil of tears… Oh, true love realized! Hurrah!

The Sting. Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Classic. And it has music by Scott Joplin. And Heidi and Carla and I sat and watched this about ten times at the Theatre in Palm Springs because the ending was just such a surprise and so good.

Star Wars. Michael and I stood in line for hours to be first in to see it the day after the Hollywood premiere. It was just unbelievable, the idea behind the story and the special effects were simply amazing. They had these bass speakers, woofers and subwoofers everywhere so the THX sound or whatever, was awesome. That ship at the beginning was so big as it came rumbling past… (Hahaha and what a great spoof later in Space Balls…) Han Solo was so totally cool and I wanted to be Princess Leia so I could wear my hair in cinnamon rolls on the side of my head. It was the beginning of a genre and is still a classic; I would watch it again anytime. Funny aside, as we left the lobby, we saw a full-size cut out of Vinny Babarino in a white leisure suit, his hand in the air. I said, “Hey, that’s the guy from ‘Welcome Back Kotter’, what’s his name? John Travolta or something? Geez… Who would want to see a movie called ‘Saturday Night Fever’…”

Rainman. Dustin Hoffman and Nichole Kidman’s ex. Turns into a love story and is so touching when Raymond lays his head on his brother’s shoulder at the end, a final connection. It was a journey in many ways for both of them and they finally were able to heal each other in some small way.

Much Ado about Nothing. Shakespeare in Italy! I enjoy this because, at the time it was filmed, Beatrice (Emma Thompson) and Benedict (Kenneth Branagh) truly were in love in real life and it shows. And call me affected if you like, but the Italian countryside where this was filmed is gorgeous and the costumes were superb – all that white linen, raw silk, yum. Plus, we get a bit of full-frontal nudity, just to put us in the mood. I think the Dramaturge really did their job and the actors understood all the interlaced allusions and plays on words. Just fun to watch this play and enjoy the words, the language, instead of hearing it as I was running my ass off doing bloody fast costume changes. (We did this sucker at the Globe…)

Amelie. I love watching this for a number of reasons, first because it takes place in and around Montmartre, my most favourite neighbourhood in Paris. The heroine sets in motion an amazing sequence of events to enhance other people’s lives, something I would enjoy doing. She likes to do mundane things such as skip stones and crack the sucre brûlé on a crème brûlée, me too. I also like it because it’s in French and my girls watch it and understand it, well, most of it. (Yes, I know it is PG-16 or something but no violence, just alluded to sex and a few naked bodies. I have no problem with nudity, just gratuitous violence.) I also love it because Amelie ends up so joyful and content, even blissful at the end as she has finally allowed herself to fall in love and her love is returned back to her. Big happy sigh!

Wayne’s World. Mike Myers is one of my favourite actors and Dana Carey is a perfect foil. The part where Wayne is speaking Chinese always cracks me up and, yes, there really is a Flow-mo thingy hair-cutting device sold on Infomercials in the USA. Honest.

A Fine Day Out, A Close Shave, The Wrong Trousers. Wallace and Gromit are such a great comedy team, even if made of clay. I love the artistry, the work behind these films, the expressions on the faces, the double entendres, and the sweet storylines; watching them makes me smile. I’ll include Chicken Run in here as well. Some of the lines in that one are priceless, (‘I don’t want to end up in a pie… I don’t like gravy.’ Heehee…)

Princess Bride. If you have never seen this, try to find it. It is such a wonderful movie and includes a fantastic cast of some of my most favourite character actors, wow. It’s really, really funny and very tongue-in-cheek as well. It has swordplay, true love, Mandy Patinkin, pirates and a happy-ever-after ending, of course. I love it, and so do my girls. (Thank you Christiane for introducing me to it!) There is only a little kissing, not a lot, so even ten-year-old boys will be safe. But watch out for the rats of enormous size…

Beetlejuice. The movie just works for me. I love watching it because it makes me feel good, I love the music and it has a happy ending, of sorts. Well, as happy as you can be if you are dead, I suppose.

Anything at all by Jim Henson’s Workshop, be it Muppets in Space, Muppets A Christmas Carol, The Dark Crystal, anything. I adore the Muppets, especially Big Bird, and I think Sesame Street is bloody brilliant. All my kids have watched it and learned from it.

Rear Window. James Stewart and Grace Kelly in a voyeuristic Hitchcock thriller. It makes me sit on the edge of my seat even though I know the ending. I don’t really have time for any of the other Hitchcock movies. Although I did love Vertigo and To Catch a Thief… hmm, might need to rethink Hitchcock one of these days.

Any of the John Le Carré films based on Smiley and his world of Cold War, MI5, espionage and the lives effected by the USA and the USSR having a paddy with each other.

Prime Suspect. Helen Mirren. Tense and tightly written. I love all of these because the heroine is human, not perfect, but very intelligent and dedicated. A great series.

The Red Balloon. THIS is my unparalleled most favourite movie of all time. Because I was that little boy (in a little girl’s body) at one point in my life and seeing this movie made me cry even though I was only about eight when I saw it. I didn’t cry when Bambi’s Mommy died but I did when that evil boy stepped on the hero’s red balloon…

So I suppose I like smaltzy love stories, feel-good stories and that ilk. I certainly don’t win points in the Pretence Prizes for any ‘intellectual’ movies. I don’t enjoy watching gory bloodbaths either nor do I like violence for its own sake. So I have never seen any of the Candyman, Halloween or Freddie Kruger-type movies. Or any of the Jaws movies. Or gangster-type movies. (On the other hand, I will happily watch a medical examiner prod a corpse.) However, Dog Day Afternoon and Day of the Jackal were intriguing, now as I think back, haven’t seen them in ages, certainly long before I had children. I like Musicals (Fiddler, Cats, Oliver!, Man of La Mancha,) I like psychological movies like Bridge over the River Kwai or Gattica, and I love anything with Gene Kelly, Baryshnikov or Gregory Hines dancing in it (Oh! An American in Paris! White Knights!) I would like to have the facility and ability to be able to access a wide range of films, there are so many, many I want to see. I suppose that is something I will just have to wait to do until later in my life. It isn’t what I would refer to as high priority, at the moment. Think I need to be a bit further up on my hierarchy of needs, ya know? Besides, anything I watch now has to be family-friendly enough for a five and a seven year old to watch with me. Kitty doesn’t really hassle with having ‘adult time’… nowadays… why bother?

Well, there you go… that is my list. Pretty pedestrian, really, isn’t it? Hmmm… I wonder what it says about me psychologically…