Sister Act

 Two long days at work now 
Roger is now sleeping on my bed with the others and did so without any accidents last night.
And non wanted to get up at 6 am this morning.
I will leave you with this bit of silliness from a mother and daughter 







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Tattoos

I must confess that I am not a big fan of tattoos. Perhaps it's to do with my age and maybe I have become the old fuddy duddy I  swore I never would be. In my defence, let me say that in my youth hardly anybody sported tattoos and the few who did have them were always male - usually with experience of prison or working at sea.

Often when I see younger people with tattoos up their arms or legs, I think - What the hell have you done? Don't you realise that tattoos are permanent and when you grow old your tattoos are bound to look hideous as you gradually  grow flabbier  or more wrinkly. You don't stay twenty one forever. Normally, I keep such thoughts to myself and if there are any  tattooed bloggers or blog visitors reading this then I apologise for my perceived ignorance.

Frequently tattoo enthusiasts are motivated by special family moments including births and deaths. Favourite animals, pop groups and film stars may also feature on the skin of tattoo adherents and some people like to express their political allegiances on their bodies. Why they can't instead do all of this in a notebook I have no idea. After all, those of us who remain steadfastly un-tattooed also witness births and deaths and have favourite bands, places, animals and sports. It's just that we feel no urge to declare such things on our bodies.

In America over the last few years, a  fellow called Donald J. Trump has become a hero to many Republican voters. You may have heard of him. A surprising number of  such folk have declared their hero worship with tattoos of the great man himself. To illustrate this point, here's a small selection: which co-incidentally demonstrate the artistry of  gifted tattooists:-



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Let The Right One in

 


It was a lovely talkie evening all told. 
We met in the city centre, found a pub where we could talk and 
then found a tapas place near the Royal exchange where we could relax and talk some more.
After the play we returned to the hotel and watched the apartments opposite as if we were James Stewart and Grace Kelly in Rear Window. And we drank Prosecco cooled in the sink in the bathroom and talked a great deal more.

Jack Thorne’s stage adaptation of the Swedish horror/ drama was excellent.
Essentially a study of bullying and loneliness it follows shy adolescent Oskar’s life , from sad school time to his quiet existence in a snowbound apartment with his alcoholic mother.
As gruesome murders affect his community , Oskar meets up with Eli, his new and equally lonely next door neighbour, and a somewhat sweet, mutually support relationship blossoms between the two despite Oskar’s growing awareness that Eli may be a vampire.



The performances in this production are top notch. Rhian Blundell ( who has the look and energy  of fellow actress Jessie Buckley ) brings an alien type physicality to her role as the ambitious Eli and Pete Machale, ( who is probably in his mid twenties in reality) looks and acts every inch like a gauche thirteen year old boy from a damaged home and a sad school life. 
The horror moments are well handled with flashes and hints at gore which certainly makes you jump ,rather than a explicit blood fest  seen in the movie. 

I’ve been to the Royal Exchange before but had forgotten just how beautiful the impressive the building and design is.

This morning we walked up to Manchester’s northern quarter for a fab breakfast at the North Cafe before catching the train homeward 





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