Stick a Plaster on it!

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For anyone who is in any doubt that the National Health Service in this country is worth preserving I recommend that they read Lionel Shriver’s ‘So Much for That’. Set in the United States, it tackles the grim subject of terminal cancer and the awful reality of paying for the astronomic bills that such a complex health issue presents. The book illustrates the stark, cynical way in which health insurance providers work to fleece hapless patients and their families and serves as a salutary warning.

                The pressures on a large organisation such as the NHS can only increase as the number of elderly increases [I include myself in this number]. Despite assuming responsibility for one’s own general health by eating sensibly, exercising regularly, rejecting smoking and attempting to curb alcohol consumption the issues of wear and tear begin to surface. This poses a dilemma I am unable to resolve. Until a few years ago I prided myself on the infrequency of my visits to the GP. Having grown accustomed to this lack of medical intervention in my life I continue to avoid making appointments, even when problems, [such as joint failures] interfere with normal life.  

                The result of all this procrastination is that problems begin to stack up, providing an even more complicated predicament. This is not good! When I do, eventually make it into the consulting room I find I’ve compiled a ‘list’ of complaints, which I’ve had to prioritise. I describe the main problem and then ask for other issues to be taken into consideration. I can’t help feeling this is a sneaky way to go about a GP appointment, but the alternative would be to schedule several, separate meetings. I imagine these visits in the future, pencilled in on the calendar with depressing frequency as I grow older.

                So I prefer my current approach; but what does the average healthcare professional think? Would they rather us wrinklies waited and piled up our complaints in a bulging package of ailments? Or would they prefer to become increasingly familiar with our wrinkly chops as they see us on an almost daily basis?

                I am, nevertheless very glad to be able to call on their services, as should we all be. The NHS faces a huge challenge as the population ages, but it is worth preserving, for sure.

The Worst of Both Worlds

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The film, ‘The Life of Pi’ has been given nine BAFTA nominations. I went along to see it this week, curious from having read and adored the book, and was thrilled with the film adaptation, so the nominations, as far as I am concerned are justified.

                Whilst in the cinema we were subjected to the usual run of trailers for coming films, including the also nominated ‘Les Miserables’-a film of a musical of a book. Hmm! How has this fashion for making films from stage musicals become so popular? Is there really such a dearth of original stories and ideas that producers and directors are forced to plunder the West End theatres to come up with new projects?

                I have to confess to an enduring dislike of ‘musicals’. I am usually able to become absorbed enough in a good production and story to forget I’m watching a play, but my suspended disbelief hurtles to the floor with a stinging ‘ouch’ the second that anyone bursts into song. There are a few notable exceptions [‘My Fair Lady’ comes to mind] but any performance tagged with the loose term ‘show’ is an out and out no-no for me. Eulogies for ‘shows’ such as ‘Cats’, ‘Phantom’ or the cringingly nicknamed ‘Les Mis’ commonly praise the costumes, the set and the spectacle. Fair enough-if that is what one goes to see.

                Don’t get me wrong. I love good music and regularly attend live performances of a variety of genres. I also love a well written, directed and acted play and would certainly be inclined to see a lot more of these if there were more on. [Those of us who live in the sticks don’t have easy access to the plethora of cultural delights London offers]. But good, plain drama is a rarity, probably due to the number of ‘shows’ doing the rounds instead. ‘Shows’ are worthy vehicles, I’m sure, but to me it is dumbing down culture-a presentation with humdrum writing, mundane music and so-so acting.

                Worse still are the ‘shows’ being made into films! Watching the trailer for ‘Les Mis’ I felt, why not make a serious, non-musical movie from the book [as in ‘Life of Pi’…I shudder to think what a mess that would have been in musical form]. The last simple film of the story was in 1982, a French, made-for-TV version.

                There is a wealth of new writing, and under-represented writing out there. Come on, producers and directors! More plays and films of books please! [But cut out the singing].

Boomerangst

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I am bewildered by the idea that we, the so-called ‘baby-boomers’ have somehow ‘stolen’ from subsequent generations, obliterating any chance they might have had of a comfortable life. How were we responsible for their misfortunes and hardships? Of course I do realise as well as anyone that the financial woes of our own country, of Europe and of much of the world have provided huge challenges for the young. They want all the things that their parents have had, and more; who can blame them?

Yes, we were ‘lucky’ to have been provided with grants for further education, although many of us [myself included] qualified only for a partial grant. I seem to remember existing on the princely sum of three pounds per week. There were no such things as loans, gap years or credit cards. We entered the world of work [again, we were lucky] directly from study and lived in rented rooms in shared houses. We didn’t own cars. Our gadget ownership was restricted to portable, black and white TVs and cute ‘Dansette’, stacked single-dropping record players until technological advances provided the stereo [or steereo, as my father liked to call it].

But home ownership was not, actually the natural, expected, easy-as-falling-off-a-log move into materialism that is portrayed today. We saved up for deposits. Without the distractions of gadgetry, holidays or designer anything, it was our focus. It took years.

Property prices inflated. Something changed in the world financial markets. Some shady business was conducted in the banks. Most of us ‘Boomers’ are now bankrolling, housing and otherwise shoring up at least one adult child and/or caring for elderly parents, not the avaricious, money-grubbing, future-snatchers described in the press.

 

A Guide to the World of Batty Old Bids

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Greetings to anyone unlikely enough to have entered the portal into the land where grey matter is disappearing as grey hair emerges. In this, the year I become 60, and in the spirit of New Year and resolutions I have finally overcome procrastination, breached the wall of complicated, new-fangled, confusing technology and set up a blog.

Getting started has not been without its difficulties and I admit to having succumbed to soliciting help from offspring, which leads me towards the content of this new venture. As one who is making the transition from middle to old[er] age, who has retired and is venturing haltingly into the wondrous and almost impenetrable career of writing I hope to become more disciplined by writing regular snippets.

What will the snippets be about? They will describe the view from this side of life’s mountain-where it descends the slope into the valley of old age. I’m hoping I can keep going even when I’ve forgotten my name, but I promise not to regress to a catalogue of complaints and hypochondria, ‘grumpy old woman’ style. That’s it! See you next time!