I spent all day organising my office.
I can now see my desk.
I took a bus into town, a posse of school boys got on, they made so much noise but they made me laugh.
Their conversation went from Sunday School to soccer.
I went to a screening of THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERLY.
A true story. A French journalist, editor of Elle, had a stroke. The only part of his body he could move was his left eye. He had locked-in syndrome.
Patiently his speech therapist worked out a system to get him to talk. Day after day she intoned the alphabet to him, he would blink once for yes and twice for no.
Soon she could intuit his words, then his sentences.
A young woman, supplied by his publisher, took over the dictation.
After many painstaking months his book THE DIVING BELL….was completed.
He died 10 days after it was published.
In his book he says that even though he was practically a vegetable the two things that remained were his MEMORIES and his IMAGINATION.
The film was profoundly touching.
I packed my bags, left London and drove straight home to Jim.
That’s what films can do, they can rearrange your schedule.
good night
cul8tr
2 thoughts on “Pictures Perfect.”
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Oh my goodness did you see the Mummy Diaries on television last night?
I cannot begin to say how profoundly beautiful, heart-rending, moving, tear-jerking, and simply extraordinary it was.
The series, which could have been so awfully tabloid and intrusive, follows a number of women who are dying, as they prepare to leave memories for their families after they are gone.
Yet it wasn’t intrusive at all – not even the scene where we see the bereavement specialist talking to the two children so they became aware that their mother would not be getting better.
This wasn’t mawkish sentimentality, but a really extraordinary piece of television, and even now the next day I am sitting here with tears in my eyes. Wonderful but so very very painful.
Catch it on catch-up tv if you can, but make sure you have some tissues while you watch.
Take care
Martin and David
Clever, all those rhymes.
Can’t tell you about the state of the sausage dinner (and the other food) we have to serve our ladies and gents at the centre. I’d be sued for libel. Sadly for some of our folks it’s the only hot meal they have. Makes me bloody angry.