Some Things Are Worth Stopping For

Weve just got a new movie channel called SBS World movies, and it is wonderful! I was a little disappointed at first as every time I switched on the movies were about dirt and poverty, situations I cannot change for the world, so I stopped watching, but last night a visually beautiful movie called ‘This Beautiful Fantastic’ was on that featured a courtyard garden I felt was my spiritual home. (the last one was that central greenhouse arbour in Green Card that I fell iin love with Gerald Depardieu in.)

This movie, apart from way too many long closeups – now there is acontradiction – of vacuously pouting Keira Knightley that kept reminding me she was ‘acting’, was lovely. One of those typically British modern films, even to a nice shot of the river Thames from a moving bus as backgrrund for Keira Knightley looking grief-stunned in a pouty vacous way. I loved it, and this morning it it is on again so I am catching up on the begining.

I had switched on to catch the news and join the Real World but a Japanese movie was on that was so beautiful – great wide shots (like those above that I caught at the end with my phone) – stunning costumes in traditional style that were so beautifully pressed (kudos to the wardrobe department who must have worked like slaves). I sat mesmerised at such visual satisfaction. It was near the end so I will catch the title later. One really odd thing was that the closing music which I assume to be Japanese, had the same pipes and drums sound and rhythm as my beloved Scottish pipe bands!

Unfortunately my viewing seems to have opened up my sad centre and freed a few tears, plus the urge to rush round to Bunnings for half a dozen more long plastic pots and fence hangers plus yet more bags of compost and packets of flower seeds instead of punnets. Growing from seed is primaeval in its being even before man is said to have taken to farming though how would I know that?. It is infinite in its satiisfaction.

Then I remember our forthcoming water restrictions and tomorrows possible dental bills, and come down to asphsalt.

The previous movie has convinced me to print out my few childrens stories and send them to ABC publishing just for the exercise.

I fear this past week has run me down and opened up the post traumatic stress – it would have been Dad’s birthday tomorrow. Did I really do the right thing trying so hard to keep him going for Mum that five years, when it could have been kinder not to ring the abulance and just let him slip quietly away? But then I could not have lived with the guilt. No looking back. Nothing can be changed.I will wash my hair now for when Annette comes to cut it at 5pm. I willl find those stories on my memory sticks, and maybe even carry my paperwork up to the hall to spread it out on the big table then file it into my folders. My vision is not too bad at the moment. It depends on swelling behind my eye. I see about another eye injection in two weeks.Life goes on.

Update by 2.30am I had washed my hair and put on some makeup, climbed the steps to the mailbox and walked back along the top and down along my level. I microwaved some fish to have with salad cream and lettuce on a bread roll, lay down with a 38 minute Youtube meditation by The Honest Guys and promptly fell asleep. Woke up about 4pm and the Ibuprufen has kicked in and my face has stopped aching. Now to get up and get ready for Annette.

Published by Eunice C English

FormerFreelance journalist. Poet, writer, artist, photographer. Retired and coping with Parkinson's Plus, macular degeneration and other boring stuff but life is still interesting, if a bit of a challenge!

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