Did you know of - or do you, like me, suffer from - THIS?

 

I can not abide being in close proximity to someone eating who doesn't have the slightest awareness or care of the sounds emanating from that act. There! I've said it - something I've never in my life put in words to anybody else! Yet it's been an unspoken blight I've carried around ever since I became aware of it around 12-13 years old (possibly something linked to puberty?).

It's not just noisy eating - I think most people find that unpleasant - but making a needless aural assault on other people's sense for what is basically an admittedly natural, though to me, a private/personal activity.

I don't recall having encountered the word 'misophonia' until I read it a few days ago, Xmas Eve, on the BBC News site about a woman who has suffered from this 'disorder' (as it's medically described) for a lifetime, and I thought "That's ME!" And looking it up, although the word covers negative reaction to a wide range of sounds, foremost among them is other people's eating. And all these decades I'd thought that I was if not unique (which would have been silly) but certainly quite rare. Now I find that it's rather more common than I'd assumed to be the case.

My own aversion depends not only on the particular sound being produced but whether or not I know that person, that combination setting up a particular reaction in myself which I find severely hard to tolerate, and I just have to move away outside earshot or I feel I'll go mad!

My most extreme reaction all my life has been to one of my brothers' eating, one who is 18 months younger than me, so he's now 78. We were very close as boys then suddenly, as though overnight, I couldn't help but hear that when he ate anything at all, he thudded his teeth together, top against bottom, whether he had something in his mouth or even after he'd swallowed it - and that sound in particular, that thud-thud-thud, just drove me crackers!. And now he still does it - at least he did when I last saw him 18 years ago at the funeral wake of another of my brothers. But that same in that direction irritation soon extended to every other member of my family, even though they made different sounds, it still sent shivers through me even if nothing like as deeply felt as that of my younger sibling. I've only ever met one other person who eats in that same way, someone I used to see quite regularly, being the boyfriend of one of my own best friends - the latter not seemingly troubled by sharing my difficulty. I could never myself have had a close friend who ate that way, let alone live with one - but, then, I've never been asked! 

Apparently there is (as yet?) no known cure for this malady, though there is what's known as 'cognitive behavioural therapy' to deal with it by reducing the level of negative reaction to this particular stimulus. At my age it's a bit late in the day for me to explore whether something on those lines could make it for me easier to live with, though I don't rule it out entirely.  

Generally, the noisiest of common foods must be apples and crisps ('chips' in U.S.A.) and should the occasion arise, or I was offered such, I would never eat them in company, being ultra-aware of the sounds I myself was making. I'm even still conscious of it having lived alone for 55 years. I do still consume a (small) packet of crisps daily, but I do try to keep the volume down - after all, my pussy-cats may not like it. Don't want them to be giving me disapproving looks! 😊 

I'll end by relating a dreadful experience I had some years back, my coming closer to being an actual murderer than I've ever been before or since......

It was in the 90s, a couple of years after the Channel Tunnel had opened, affording a rail link between London and Paris. I was returning to London - a packed train but I'd got a reserved (window) seat, so no problem there. I'd noticed that the adjacent aisle seat had also been reserved, but settling down with a paperback I didn't give it any more thought. Then she arrived. A what-you-might-call, a 'portly' youngish female, perhaps around 20, carrying a supermarket-type plasic bag full of....well, what I was about to find out. She plonked herself down, spreading herself over both armrests (but she was 'large'!) and straight away reached down and took out a large bag of crisps - the bag being about the same size of those which contain half-a-dozen small individual bags. The train had not started yet so there were no sounds other than people talking, and no buzz or hum from the train's movement itself. I made an inner 'groan' as she began chomping away - crunch, crunch, crunch - completely distracting me from my reading. I was reluctant to escape to somewhere else even if only temporarily, as she being on the 'large' side it would have meant a major upheaval only to be repeated on my return - no other visibly vacant seats to be seen which might be unaccounted for after late-comers had arrived. So anyway, I grinned (though not really) and bore it! By the time she'd finished the train was on the move. She then reached into her bag again and brought out one those giant plastic bottles of Pepsi. "Glug, glug, glug" she went - well, she did have an awful lot to wash down into her gullet.  When that episode I thought must have been over, resuming my reading she was fumbling in her bag again and brought out - (don't laugh) - another giant bag of crisps! OMG! Clearly this creature was one of those who just could not keep still - she simply had to be doing something, and just my luck that her 'thing' happened to be to eat, eat, eat! My indignation was becoming harder and harder to contain, but I couldn't do anything other than continue to suffer in silence, albeit near to bursting. Chomp, crackle, chomp, crackle......it went on and on. I tried to console myself by thinking "Well, at least she's not speaking into a phone!" Coming out of the tunnel, entering England, she'd now finished her second (giant) packet - and what do you think she did? Yes, you guessed right. She got out her PHONE! - and for the next 30 mins at the very least, non-stop jabber, jabber, jabber, yak, yak, yak - making it impossible for me to read. You can't not listen when there's someone a few inches away from your left lug-hole talking as if the whole coach needed to hear - and what's worse, everything she said was so non-urgent - inconsequential - nothing that couldn't have waited. As it so often is on these chats you can't help but over-hearing it when on public transport. By now I was seething, blood pressure doubtlessly stratospheric, feeling like boiling inside I could have exploded out through my ears. As we pulled in to Waterloo station (as was then London's final terminal point - now it's St Pancras station) I was trying to admire myself for restraining from committing a proper murder - a deserved killing by any means possible, only by the most convenient and quickest way possible, anything to bring an end to that prolonged verbal assault on my ears. One thing I do have to be grateful for, though - is that she didn't have an apple! That would really have sent me over the cliff edge, to face a prison life sentence - but it would have been well worth it!

 

And lastly for now - wishing all the very best for 2026 to all you lovely people!

 

Engrossed by 'Celebrity Traitors UK' as is half the country - or more.

Don't often enthuse about TV programmes but have to admit I'm finding our current 'Celebrity Traitors' totally rivetting - this one coming to its doubtlessly gripping finale next Thursday - and, very laudibly, nothing has been leaked though it was filmed months ago.

Before now we've had three U.K. series, but all only with 'unknowns'  as partipants competing for cash to win for themselves. I watched each of them - as well as three American series (using as location the same Scottish castle as our British ones have, though with Alan Cumming as an impeccable 'host'), as well as two Australian and one New Zealand series  - and found them all fiendishly watchable.   

This current B.B.C. one is presided over by the wonderful, and severely-serious Claudia Winkleman - except for when she loses it by getting excitedly involved in the challenges she sets, which I love to see. 

For the first time here, the game features only celebrity participants, several of whom are household names, and playing to win money for their individually favoured charities, the latter bodies being organisations whose names we as yet don't know. Right now we're down to the last five surviving players, among whom (most of) the remaining faithfuls do not know that there are also two uncloaked traitors in there with them -  though ex-rugby-player Joe Marley has, very shrewdly and correctly sussed out the identities of who the traitors are. I do hope he wins. 

  

This series began with eighteen well-knowns - or most of them being so, I familiar with just eight of the nine older ones, but none of the under-30s, not even any of their names ringing any bells. Some of those older ones whom I did know, include:-

Sir Stephen Fry........

........inevitably decribed as (over-used term) a 'national treasure', which indeed he is.

'Veteran' Actor Celia Imrie.......

....films include 'Mamma Mia', 'Bridget Jones' films, 'Calendar Girls' and too many others to mention. Her clearly audible though non-intentional fart in an early episode was considered as the moment in, probably, this entire series.

Btw: why is the word 'actress' not used now? Is it considered as demeaning? - or is it my age showing once more?

Olympic (bronze, silver and GOLD!) Diver - and now renowned knitter'! - Tom Daley......

.........who got 'murdered' way too early, he having quickly raised to others his deep suspicion of the following player as being a traitor..... 

Sports broadcaster (as well as dog-enthusiast) Clare Balding......

..........another earlier-than-deserved banishment.

Hottie, mainly TV daddy-actor (whom I didn't know) Mark Bonner:-

.... and whom I couldn't keep my eyes off. Severally frowned on for what was seen as his histrionic reactions and interventions, though they didn't bother me. Lasted longer than most before being banished.

Then, probably the two most widely recognisable (at least to British audiences) talk-show host and much more, Jonathan Ross......

....... who commands attention like no other just by being there.

.....and, of course, that giggly, camp, very popular comedian Alan Carr......

.......another who only had to be himself to get the attention focussed on himself - though frequently discomited by it, only adding to his being targetted, more often than not, in non-hostile ways.  

An interesting feature of this series is the high incidence of 'out'-LGBTQ participants (of both sexes), whom I shan't list as it really has nothing to do with the programme and I think has hardly even been mentioned - if at all. So I'll say no more.

I'm looking forward enormously to the grand final next Thursday together with millions of others. What a great idea this was - originally thought up by a Dutch guy, I believe. I don't think I've seen one single negative criticism of it. I shall of course be watching all future British series, be it either with more celebrities or equally with unknowns, as well as some from other countries too. Marvellous, compelling stuff!

Btw: In my last posting I wrote about the uncertain future of my blog as I'm unable to access Windows 11 on this ancient laptop of mine  - and this remains the case. However, I do have good (quite expensive)  security which has never let me down so far - and I shall continue to keep an eagle-eye out for anything untoward happening, anything which might endanger my own future use and (most importantly) that of others who read my blog. Should such a situation arise I most certainly promise to let it be known here. Thanks to those of you bearing with me. 

 

And so commences my final year as septuagenarian.

 Wed. 15th Oct.

This photo was taken two weeks ago on the first anniversary of that devastating tripping accident - resulting in broken arm, fractured jaw (though not seriously) and two most prominent upper front central teeth knocked out, the latter explaining the closed-lips smile which would otherwise have revealed an ugly gap. All except the teeth situation reasonably resolved now. I still await appointment with professional dentist who'll tell me whether my request for a pair of falsies to be inserted at front upper is viable, rather than the original dentist's opinion saying "They'll all have to come out!" - whether he meant both upper and lower sets or just the upper, I was too startled for it to register.

Other than that, things are okay, though I'm afraid there'll be a rather large 'downer' at the end of this post - so if you had thoughts of sending me your wishes, though I do know they'd be well-meant, you might prefer to go easy on the 'happy' bit when you read it. 

Both pussies, Bobby and Sloopy, now in late middle-age, are in good health though still as hostile to each other as they ever were. Despite the cooler weather every night they both sleep with me, one on each side (Sloopy nestling in the warmth of an arm-pit) making my turning over quite a business, with an occasional soft warning growl of disapproval. But I'd be truly friendless without them.  

Now for the 'bad' news. 

It's becoming increasingly likely that I'm probably going to have to discontinue this blog, whether just for a time or permanently I can't say. If that time does come I'll do a short post announcing such. 

The reason - finance. Yes, it really has become rather grim. With Windows now having withdrawn support for Windows10, and now Microsoft as well, it's becoming riskier, my primitive laptop becoming more vulnerable to hackers. I do have reliable security in Avast, who have never yet let me down though it would be better to have back-up just in case, all of which is disappearing. I wouldn't like others to be put at risk to hackers through me, let alone anyone finding out my bank details, so I think it would be better all round if I at the very least, go into 'suspense'. Frankly, I do badly need a new laptop (this present one is second-hand, won't take Windows11, and has its other very apparent limits). A much-needed new one is, at the moment, way beyond my means. No point in going to such expense for a 'luxury' when I already can barely find enough to buy food and to pay the heating (and other necessary) bills to keep me going through the Winter. So despite my near-smile in the photo above - taken, as I say a fortnight ago - things are not going so well and could yet turn even grimmer. 

Wish I didn't have to say it, but there it is.

I'll let you know if things turn up....or go further down.
Thanks for any concern you may have.

    

       

Today's annual 'Great North Run'. What fun for them!

 

Playing on TV right now is my annual, occasionally tearful, feast of nostalgia, the annual Great North Run (a half-marathon race, this year being the 44th, with participants now numbering 50,000) starting in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, with the course then running south over the river via the iconic Tyne bridge, then eastwards, terminating on the North Sea coast in South Shields. 

I ran it three times in the 1990s - and it's well-known, at least in this country, as the 'friendliest' mass sporting event, a title with which I'd concur. It attracts world-class runners every year, nearly always including Olympic medal winners. It's terrific fun - with a feeling of 'oneness' and camaraderie which I certainly haven't experienced in any of the other running events I've participated in, including (just the once) the London (full) Marathon of 1997, a few years after which I started getting trouble with my feet which necessarily ended my regular morning runs. 

The most famous name, probably, was (now SIR) Mo Farah, winning in 2015, and bowing out year before last with a very creditable finish of fourth place.

The race is located not that far from the part of north-east England I come from, some 50 miles south-east of Newcastle (300 miles from where I now live)  - so when I took part my mum was still around and I could stay with her. 

There was one time about 30 years ago I was attending some counselling training group and I happened to mention that I was travelling up to take part in the Run. One of the young ladies in the group who clearly had no notion of what the event was, at the end of our session said to me "Good luck, Ray. I hope you win!" My rather startled response to her friendly wish being "Win? I'll be lucky to finish in the first 15,000!" (I can't remember if I managed it, the number of participants then being something like 35,000, though most likely not - even then I'd probably have been over 50!).

So, as runners in today's event are now reaching the finishing line I'll return to bathing in nostalgic feelings and watch the closing stages with a wish of 'If only....' going round and round in my head. But I really am so happy for them all!😸

Phantom cat or is it just my mattress settling?

 

I've been experiencing this for about 10 years, I think. Not really scary (at least to me), but definitely an oddity. I wonder if anyone else has known or even heard of this kind of thing - or something similar? 

Nearly every night soon after I get into bed and put my head on the pillow, I feel the clear sensation that a cat has jumped onto the bed to join me - thinking that one of my, at present, two pussies has done their usual habit of coming to me to sleep with, which they'll both always do off and on during the course of the night, punctuated by their slinking off to go outside for their nocturnal prowls. But when I feel this 'phenomenon', I sometimes used to switch on a bed-side light, look aound the room, and there they both are, sleeping soundly in their respective favourite well-separated locations in the bedroom, either on the carpet in a corner or on a pile of discarded clothes awaiting washing. I don't even bother to look nowadays as I know what to expect. This feeling of one of them having leapt up to join me (it's always near the foot of the bed or behind my back when I'm lying on my side) is so similar to them actually having done so it's quite uncanny.

Now I ought to say that my present mattress is old, by some 30+ years, my having acquired it from a former address when I was in 'digs'. How long even before that my then landlord had it, I don't know.

So, the much more likely cause of this interesting, frequent, though minor 'disturbance' is that it's something to do with the bed rather than being paranormal (it hardly need saying!) - but the regularity of it, and its uncanny resemblance to the antics of a cat is remarkable. It's always around the same time - when I'm still awake, not yet nodding off and, oddly only at night, never during my daily afternoon snooze sleeping on the very same bed - a 'cat-nap' if you will. It's not in any way unnerving, in fact it's oddly reassuring.

Maybe I should say in passing that since I moved to the current address I must have had around 10 different cats as co-residents at one time or another, mostly in singles but occasionally a two-some like now. A few of them have actually died here, but none of them (yet?) in the bedroom, the last one happening in the bathroom, before that in the kitchen, then a couple being put to sleep at the vets (in my arms with my copious tears flowing as they were given their final jab). So a 'phantom' cat, highly questionable as it is, is never far from my mind. Maybe it lingers there because I like to think of it as such. All the cats I've had here have, every one of them, been very affectionate towards me - that's why they've stayed - so it makes me wonder, could it be?.......

P.S. Couple of hours after reading Mitch's response below regarding his own late cat, Tuxedo - Don't know why I didn't do it before, but having written in my opening sentence above that all this business started with me "about 10 years" ago, I've just looked at my notes of significant dates in my life, and the cat I owned who had the greatest effect on me, and who loved me to an extent no other cat since has done, was my dear beloved Blackso, who died in July 2017 and whose passing devastated me like no other - although of course I've also loved every other one of them too, even if Blackso was the most special one of them all. Tonight, when I feel him(?) jumping onto the bed I'm going to whisper his name. And why not?

Yet ANOTHER horrific episode uncovered in Catholic Church's appalling history.

 And in the not-very-distant past too. 

Warning: This is utterly heartbreaking. It's angered me and affected me profoundly. If you wish to read on, please prepare yourself to be distressed.

Scene: Tuam in County Galway, on the west coast of Ireland. 

From 1925 to 1961, St Mary's Home was a 'hostel' administered by the Church - the 'Bon Secours Sisters' (translation: Good Help) - for mothers, some of them mere teenage girls, who had given birth out of wedlock - together with their babies. This was, as many will know, an extremely dark time when 'society' considered unmarried mothers and their illegitimate offspring to be the result of the ultimate depravity - the work of Satan himself! (No accusation of guilt directed towards the male 'culprits', of course. They had nothing to do with it!), Perhaps one or more of the girls were raped by a perpetrator who was related to them, maybe even their own father. That doesn't matter. For a girl to 'allow' herself to be raped was still a most grievous mortal sin, any child resulting from such a physical union necessarily having to share that 'guilt'. 

The mothers themselves at this home were constantly treated like dirt by both nuns and staff - and their babies, usually separated from their mothers, some girls never being given the chance of even having seen their offspring, were treated hardly any better. But yet worse was to come. If their health was in trouble, that was too bad. They were the Devil's children! Many, many babies died, some maybe just a few months old - but some lasted long enough to become young girls! But it wasn't the Church's problem. And where were bodies of the little ones 'buried'? In the establishment's back garden - thrown into a sewage tank!!!! Oh my GOD! Pointless to wonder if any departing prayers were said for their innocent souls. The act says it all.

Here is a 'shrine' for them created later - yes, 796 of them, all their little bodies disposed of (i.e. hidden) under the grass. It's absolutely beyond words and imagination!

While it was operating, a total of 3,349 children lived at this 'home'. Some of them are still alive and able to recount their experience, how their stigma was carried into every area of their lives, including of course and prominently, schooling, where they were shunned by other pupils - on their teachers' instructions, naturally.

The old home has itself been long demolished, but work is now proceeding to identify bones now being extracted. Whether this will go far in identifying any of these young victims it's hard to ascertain.

And how did the present Church react? Well nothing too surprising. I suppose we can over time expect the episode to being forgotten, never to be mentioned, certainly not by the Church itself. Only the usual, almost reluctant, mealy-mouthed 'apology' of sorts - together with the inevitable "This can never happen again!" kind of reassurance. Big deal! We all look forward to something to show how much anyone in the Church who knew about this home, most especially those in senior positions (bishops, even maybe cardinals?) were aware of what went on. The present Archbishop of Tuam described the revelations as he being "horrified", "shocked" and a "body-blow". Well, don't that make you feel a lot better?

Meantime, is there any non-religious institution anywhere which, if it had allowed such an establishment as this to run and thrive for decades, to not be closed down forever. I doubt it. But for the Catholic Church - and 'Christianity' in particular - as well as religion in general - just claim that you are pro-'God', and you'll get off practically scot-free - and your 'business' certainly will not be shut down. 

Now 'scuse me while I just go away and vomit! 

Mega-horror - yesterday's Air India plane crash.

 There aren't adequate words to describe the scale of horror of yesterday's event, the plane crashing down onto a hostel for doctors and other premises in the Indian township of Ahmedabad mere seconds after taking off, killing 241 passengers and crew, additional ground fatalities so far unknown, though likely to be numerous. The cause of the plane's failure/malfunction is, of course, yet to be determined. There was only one survivor (with a few non-critical injuries) from the plane itself, which I will refrain from calling 'miraculous' - though others may not be so held back - as that would literally imply a deity who'd 'decided' that everyone on the plane must die except for this single 40-year old British man - a preposterous notion. But I get that people, myself included, are prone to exaggerating for effect when commenting on such a catastrophe as this - or, indeed, any tragedy at all.

However, in the reporting of the disaster on yesterday's TV news, there was a matter which some might say is relatively trivial as against the entire deadly drama. Among all the victims was a British couple, Fiongal Greenlaw-Meek who founded a spiritual 'Wellness Foundry' in London in 2018 involving psychic readings, reiki healing, tarot and other 'alternative' belief systems (not specifically religious) and who was later joined by his husband, Jamie, as business partner:-

When I first heard about the horrible event yesterday on the BBC News channel, among the details of those few victims known at that early time, was this couple, the BBC acknowledging Jamie as the other's husband.  However, on our ITV News half an hour later, the two were described as being 'partners' which, though accurate in the business sense, doesn't give what is arguably the more important part of their relationship. What makes their status as victims even more poignant is that the couple at the airport just prior to boarding for their flight, had made a video of themselves saying 'Goodbye, India' - which was broadcast. (Lump in my throat. Oh, weep for them!) Okay, so maybe ITV hadn't known that they were a married couple - but if it had been a man and his wife who was also his business partner, would they not have at least been 'interested' as to their relationship, if any? Or could it, just possibly, have been that ITV didn't want to 'offend' some viewers? I only ask the question because it still irks me. If the BBC knew, surely ITV too should or could also have found out? 

The plane would have been bound for London's Gatwick airport which is in that part of England in which I also reside, so I watched the later ITV 'regional news' bulletin with some interest - and yet again, as the crash had some incidental connection with this region, these particular victims were mentioned once more - and (no surprise) this couple were again only referred to as 'partners'!  (Incidentally, the later Channel 4 News did acknowledge their true relationship). Of course it's quite possible that I'm barking up a non-existent tree, but until there's evidence to the contrary I'll continue to quibble that this couple, dying together horrifically as they did, were not afforded the dignity and respect by our ITV channel to which they were absolutely entitled. 

London Pride 2025 is to take place on 5th July coming up. The couple were booked to supervise an information stall for their London-based 'Wellness' enterprise in the park gathering following the parade. Plans are currently uncertain how to carry on but what will happen is that a period of silence in the couple's memory will be held, which is the very minimum that can be done. As to whether anything else takes place regarding their profoundly ever-so-sad demise and in loving honour of their memory, we'll have to see.

Eurovision 2025 Grand Final - my post-event thoughts.

 

So, Austria wins. Not especially noteworthy IMO - and neither was the song, sung by JJ, a 24-year-old Austrian-Filipino in (mostly) extraordinarily high-register, counter-tenor voice, that being the only significant feature of his otherwise unmemorable entry, in a victory that was only clinched away from Israel in the very last announced vote, reaction being to nearly drown himself in tears, for which I think he can be forgiven.

This was Austria's third win in the contest's history, the last one being bearded drag-queen Conchita Wurst in 2014.

Btw: I read only this morning that among the several anti-Israel protests both inside and outside the hall, some highly predictably vociferous, during her act the Israeli singer was targetted by a pair of paint-throwers in the audience, though missing their object, hitting instead a stage-hand. Can't think why I missed seeing that! But anyway, her song did very nearly carry off the prize so she must have felt robbed when it fell at the very last post.

U.K. finished 19th (out of 26), the trio 'Remember Monday' with their stop-go-stop-go song, entitled 'What the hell just happened?' finished with what I thought a fair placing and a song title with which I would concur - their notable 'achievement' for the second year running having been to achieve for us the dreaded 'nul points' from the public international vote. I shed no tears.

As is nearly always the case, this year's presenters were so boringly dull, perhaps even moreso this time. Could they not think of something original, or even just marginally interesting to do or say? Apparently not:- 

Now, most thankfully, this year was not bedevilled with the question of how many votes we viewers have. In recent previous years we've heard the presenters talking of multiple votes while commentator Graham Norton, talking over them, goes on about our voting for the (emphatically singular) country we liked the most. At last, this year even he said that we can have up to 20 votes each - not permitting, of course, voting for one's own. So with that cleared up I voted for my own Top 5, the first three of which, incidentally, all being 'novelty' songs, and only the first singer being female. Significant? :-

1. Luxembourg (actually finishing 22nd) - singing in the cursed second place running order, the only position from which no participant has yet won. This pleasant, puppet-themed song and presentation was, I felt, sadly underappreciated.

2. Estonia (finished 3rd) - man with rubber limbs with a 'fun' song, complete with fake 'stage invasion' by female fan. An agreeable final placing. :-

3. Sweden (finished 4th) - had been out-and-out favourites to win, and early on in the voting looking like they would! I'd have been well pleased if they'd succeeded:-

4. San Marino (finished 26th = last). Undeserved. I'd liked the song on first hearing. Shame!

5, Iceland (finished 25th = second to last). My vote here wasn't very enthused, but even so these two brothers (not twins) didn't merit so low a placing.

So there you have it. This year a largely unremarkable contest with few genuine shocks/surprises as such. Next year probably Vienna, then? Maybe at last the U.K. will break out of its seemingly eternal doldrums which even the very occasional exception hardly alleviates. 

Eurovision time here again, with an 'Hooray!' - and a 'gulp'!

 

Yup, it's first Semi-final tonight - followed by the second on Thurs, then the (very) 'Grand' Final on Sat evening. An evening of 'entertainment' unrivalled elsewhere on TV - complete with cheers, guffaws, boos, excitements and bores, yet such compulsive viewing - while all the while awaiting those inevitable and guaranteed jaw-dropping moments.

This year as usual (sometimes) coming from the country of previous year's winner, Switzerland - an entry which, if anyone remembers the song at all, congrats to them! 

It'll be hosted in Basel, a city I visited (along with Zurich) out of curiosity in the 1980s - a time when I was affluent enough to visit virtually anywhere I wanted on a whim, sometimes just for a w/e.  

I've listened to all the songs twice, some three times - and for me there's only the one stand-out winner. Unfortunately on the latest betting odds that entry (identified at end of this post) has a less than 1% chance of winning, even lower than the U.K. which has a precisely 1% (as deserved) chance with their totally uninspiring entry:-

Above, U.K.'s 'Maybe Monday' (that's the name of the group!) a performing trio with their song 'What the hell just happened?', a song I just do not 'get', along with a title to match! Anyway they are currently 18th out of a current 37 in the betting. After the two semi-finals, viewers' votes will have whittled Saturday's finalists down to 25. (The U.K. along with France, Germany, Spain and Italy, being the biggest financial contributors to the annual event, are already placed in the final, with also the previous year's winner).

There's not such a visible, though beneath-the-surface, 'gay element' to this year's do, which is a pity even if the audience at least is bound to be livened up with prominently visible Pride flags as well the predictable national ones. (I always find it especially hard whenever the camera plays on or picks out particular male audience members, to decide whether such individuals are not gay! - a minority I'm sure). 

One act I must single out is that of Poland (with an indifferent song, alas) - a female singer with a backing leather-clad dance quartet including two men. All four of them wear near-identical dress of mini-skirt consisting of leathery 'straps' hanging down, and stiletto heels! The gay allusion is clear. But whether they will get through to the final, I would doubt it. Currently they are 21st in the betting odds to win:-

Above, Poland's performer(s) - I can't find a pic to show all four dancers in full-length mode.

It's quite a surprise to find that country having permitted such an act to represent the nation when for a number of years until quite recently Poland was deemed the most homophobic (in terms of laws and government) in the entire European Union - that dubious 'honour' now bestowed on Hungary and its Prime Minister (and 47's dear friend) Viktor Orban. (Hiss hiss, boo!)

Russia has been booted out of the competition since President Putrid's invasion of Ukraine, the latter country being currently 14th in the odds, though their song is another barely inspiring one, even though it'll be bound to get a significant sympathy vote.

Every year now the most controversial inclusion is always Israel - demonstrations, bomb threats, death threats  - all pretty much business as usual. I wonder why, with Russia being excluded and Israel allowed, should they not permit a Palestinian entry (or Gaza?) if only to balance it? Just asking the question.

Oh, and like they always now are, Australia is again taking part. Last year they didn't even make it to the final.

Present betting favourite to win - Sweden (yes, yet again!), which I'd rate as about the 6th or 7th best, so not too bad - followed by Austria, France and Israel. 

And my own favourites? First, Luxembourg - in currently bookies' 24th placing to win - with an attractive, tuneful non-serious ditty which appealed to me on my first hearing, and with a generous nod (if anyone other than me recalls it) to the U.K.'s first ever win back in 1967. Our last outright triumph was in 1997 but since 2000 we've done spectacularly badly, creeping into last place no less than five times! True that in 2022 we came second with Sam Ryder singing the forgettable 'Space Man' though that placing turned out to be an exceptional freak. 

Then my second favourite I would place the San Marino entry (bookies' 24th).

Very doubtful if my two choices, especially the first, even make it into Sat's biggie, but that's been the pattern for many years now. Maybe I've gotten just too old to fully appreciate today's prevailing tastes. However, we can but hope!

'Exploding Head Syndrome' - Do you also suffer?

I'd never been aware of this quite melodramatic term before finding it this morning via Google. It relates to the condition of being awoken from sleep by some loud noise (or maybe a voice) either as part of one's dream or imagined as occurring in reality, i.e. external to it - and, apparently, it's more common among women.

All my life I've never been a deep, sound sleeper, though it's not been such a chronic or disabling feature as to needing medical attention, my always managing to get (just) adequate sleep even if it means, as it regularly does, taking a nap (or two) during the day. Occasionally, as a sleep catch-up, I do take just half of one tablet of the most popular available over-the-counter sleeping aid, perhaps once in a fortnight - just half a tablet because I'm very aware of how addictive they can become for some people, something I very much don't want to become, nor have ever got close to becoming, thank heavens!

Anyway, for some months now I've been experiencing the phenomenon of waking up due to some kind of sound or noise in my dream, maybe once every couple of weeks and, when it happens, just the once in that particular night. But recently they've gotten more frequent - until last night when it happened at least three times, perhaps four! Quite concerning. The sound varies - sometimes a sort of swishing noise, occasionally a loudish report, or now and then my name being called - always within whatever dream I'm having, but disturbing enough to suddenly make me wide awake, not sure whether it was a real sound, or it came from outside the bedroom  - when I sometimes have to get up and look into other rooms, or even through the window, checking outside. I'm far from a semi-sleep state but immediately wide-eyed fully awake. Then, with a sigh, I return to bed (having disturbed the cats, who are most nights both sleeping on the bed with me) and - usually - I manage to return to sleep again.

Does any of this sound familiar to you?

Happening to me several times in one night is definitely an entirely new departure, and rather worrying. Obviously could be doing with far less of it. 

Apparently, and with no surprise, although there's no categorically simple answer to its cause other than anxiety, usually specific,

- which in my case can only be overwhelming financial pressures. Looks like I'm going to have no alternative but to beg my younger brother - he's just turned 77 - yet again for assistance merely to survive, something he's quite willing to do with no complaints at all, bless him. But I do so hate having to be carried! I used to be the richest member of my family until I made that fateful decision to emigrate to Germany in 1988. Then since my having to return to England three years later, all my money having run out, I've been impecunious ever since - it now having been for 34 years - and it ain't no fun! 

Incidentally, there are 'spiritual' interpretations of this 'Exploding Head Syndrome' condition, one of which is the fortelling of a financial 'surprise' in the offing. Oh, if only it were to be true!

Anyway, my immediate and most urgent wish right now is to have fewer nights like last night was. Heigh-ho!

A most treasured possession stolen from under my nose.

 

A set of domestic wind-chimes, owned by a dear, late German friend who died (AIDS-related) at age of just 40 in 1990. I was myself living at the time in Germany. After his passing I took over his apartment in Cologne and lived there for a year until financial necessities forced me, unwillingly, to return to England.

Heinz-Jurgen had brought the chimes over from San Francisco when he'd been visiting his closest friend, an American, in Sacramento, where this friend lived and still does. (I actually met him, and we've maintained mutual e-mail contact to this very day).

I'd set these chimes up inside my kitchen window here in Worthing when I moved here in 2000 - their gentle tinkling reminded me daily of that dear friendship of the past (as if I needed any reminding!). It was the sole possession of his that I now owned, putting me in mind of not only H-J, but also the several other friends, German, Dutch and English, I lost from around that time for that same reason.

Couple of months ago (I really should have posted about this before now) I was in my living room when I heard a clatter from the kitchen, at first thinking that one or both of my cats had upset something. On investigating, before I knew what had happened I looked out of the back window (my apartment is on the first floor - 'second' floor, I believe, in America!) and saw a female figure with distinctive hair - couldn't see her face- actually making an exit from 'our' back garden - through the gate which must have been left unbolted from the inside. I called out to her but she either didn't hear me or (more likely?) had slunked guiltily away out of sight. Only then did I notice that the chimes were no longer hanging there - and that was what I'd heard. How on earth it had dropped down from inside the kitchen and out through the opening of 8 inches or so (left permanently so for the cats), slid down onto the projecting sloping roof below and then dropped down into the garden below. At first I thought it must have been caught in the guttering, but no! Though then - that lady! I went down and outside, but by then she'd gone - no doubt holding my dear chimes. She must have been close by when she'd heard the sound of their falling onto the ground, tried the solid wooden back garden gate and, on finding it unbolted, seen the object lying there, and taken it up for herself. Just what sort of person would - or could - do such a thing!!! And in broad daylight too! On that day there'd been a lot on my mind and I do sadly recall thinking "Oh well, it's gone! Too bad!" I can't tell you how bad I still now feel on having thought so!

Some days after that event, thinking that the thief having disappeared so quickly, must have lived close by, even perhaps next-door (a large house divided into three or four flats), I wrote a long note addressed to 'All resident here' detailing what had happened, the value the object had meant to me, and that I'd seen the criminal, if only the top of her head. What I didn't say is that if I'd been flushed with money I would have paid a tidy to sum to have the stolen item back - even with no questions asked! As it is, and having checked on eBay, a similar set of chimes can be purchased for a mere £30 (American $40) or even less. Of course I myself could buy another, but naturally it wouldn't have any of the same sentimental value at all. It's hardly surprising that I got no response to the note I posted. If everyone next door had read it, including that lady herself - or if somebody read it who knows but is shielding her - I simply do not know what else I can do.

Still missing it every single day. Absolutely irreplaceable. It cuts me deep. 

 

One of two recent(ish) losses (other being NON-dental in post to follow).

Only in my case both the upper front 'biggies', the incisors, are now gone.

It's one more aftermath of the trip-over accident I had six months ago, breaking my left arm (now, thankfully 95% mended), taking a minor fracture to upper right jaw (no treatment merited, though can still feel it - but no pain) - and then losing the first of the two incisors, the second coming out only night-before-last in my sleep, again painlessly. 

In Feb made visit to my latest National Health Service dentist - it's still a major problem in this country just trying to find one which will take patients like me who can't afford private treatment. 

This particular practice I found has turned out to be rather unsatisfactory, as well as being far away and hard to visit by public transport, my also not being able to afford a taxi. After negotiating the (too) quietly-speaking receptionist, the dentist himself turned out to be Indian, which itself was quite fine by me, but his English wasn't easy to comprehend - and he even spoke Hindi to his assistant as he went through my teeth one by one, telling her what to note down. Then when that examination was over (at that stage just one of my incisors was missing) he said something like "They'll all have to come out!" which surprised me as I thought the lower set were fine as well as the upper side sets. Then he chuntered on in matter-of-fact manner about my having to make an appointment for major extraction - and I caught the phrase "Very painful". At this stage I was reeling a bit from his news, but I did go ahead with arranging a date some weeks henceforward from then - but the one who'd being doing the extracting also had an Asian-sounding name (another Indian?) so would he know about, understand and allow for the jaw fracture? Or could he exacerbate the already present damage? Maybe my worry was misplaced but I was becoming very seriously concerned. 

On getting back home and reflecting, I wondered did the dentist mean having all my teeth out, top and bottom, or just the upper set, which itself would have been more than I'd expected? So I telephoned back, but the young lady who answered was herself speaking in halting English with, once more, an Indian lilt - and we just could not understand each other. "So you want to have all your teeth removed?" she asked. "NO!" I almost shouted "I don't want to have any taken out if I possible!" After further confusion I gave up and put the phone down. 

So as at now, with that even further gaping space in front, and having cancelled the extraction appointment, I still don't know what the situation is. Worry is - has that particular dentist given up on me? Have I been removed from their client list after all the trouble I'd had of finding one at all? Can only wait and see.

However, as long as there's no pain, and I can continue to eat, even bite, with hardly any problem - and I don't have to open my mouth wide when speaking to anyone (I only need to talk with someone face-to-face maybe just once in a month - or even less)......and I'm not likely to administer a B.J. to anyone in the near future - or, very possibly, ever again(!), I can get along quite fine with the rest of my truly necessary 'oral activities', thank you.

So that's the more recent of my losses. The other one, now having happened a couple of months ago (and which I really ought to have posted about earlier) cuts me rather deeper, concerning which I'll now start to write for my next post, for posting either later today or, if not, tomorrow.........

I got the 1% question right. Well, almost in time.

 

I quite like TV Quiz Shows, though without being addicted to them - preferring General Knowledge questions to I.Q. ones, my being slightly better at the former. 

Monday evening is my favourite quiz time which I never miss, when, all on our BBC2 channel, three of my favourite shows (and the most difficult) are shown in succession - Mastermind, Only Connect. and University Challenge. Other quiz shows on different channels on other nights I might happen to dip into now and again, usually when there are ad-breaks in the programme I happen to have been watching.

So it was that yesterday, I turned on 'The 1% Club' (of which quite a number of countries have their own versions) just as the programme was in its final minutes, to catch the final question where only one member of the 100-strong audience of applicants had survived to the end, meaning he had a chance of winning the then £94,000 jackpot by answering the final question correctly, or of leaving with the £10,000 he had earned up to that point. He took the latter option but was given the chance of looking at what the final question would have been. This was that question which, the programme said, only 1% of the public got right within the 30 secs allowed:-

If FT=GD, and SD=SR, what does TD=?

To be honest it was only in the final couple of seconds when I saw it. If I'd been there, it would hardly have given me enough time to write the answer down within the time permitted, so I doubt if I'd have deemed a winner. Can you see the answer? The man who had opted to look at it, was by then rather half-hearted and came up with the guessed answer 'BR'. Incorrect. Quite frankly I'm surprised that only one out of a hundred people asked would have got it, me rather expecting it would have been nearer 20% or even more. But nonetheless I did go to bed feeling rather chuffed with myself.

Now if you still can't see it I could give a clue which would, I'm sure, serve you up the answer on a plate. So here it comes - and try to look away if you can - but if you'd prefer not to know I'll hide the clue a little by moving each of its letters down the alphabet by one - So think 'Pmznqjdt'. 

The chap who tried it was on the right track, but wth a slightly untidy finish - and I went to bed rather pleased with myself. I think it's been the only time when I saw a final question on that programme and got it right - well, nearly.

Two American politicos for whom I've got the 'hots'.

Maybe with me it's a passing phase, though I hope not - even if at my age it may seem like baby-snatching, when happening upon either of these similar-looking dazzling guys appearing on my lap-top, I'm so transfixed by their appearances that I pay far less attention to what they're saying than a serious politics-watcher ought........ 

Hayes Brown, Writer/director with MSNBC Daily:-

And -

Maxwell Frost, Congressman for Florida 10th District:-

I've purposely avoided delving into the background and histories of these two, for not wishing to unearth something I'd regret learning about - though it would genuinely astonish me if there were to be any such thing. However, one never knows........

I think it was about 10 years ago when I posted about my over-bearing fascination with American politics, such that by far the largest share of daily time spent on my laptop was watching YouTube postings from left-of-centre (or at least 'middling') American sources. Resulting from a realisation that such a practice got me nowhere other than to keep me up to date - though also, frankly, being a 'waste of time' - which might have been better utilised on doing something more productive. I did then manage to curtail my excessive interest. However, now with the political American scene having been transformed in the last decade or so into a near-monstrous attention-grabber, I've found that its appeal has once again become irresistible, this time with an horrific dimension which very few could have imagined, let alone wished for. So here it is - I'm back to spending easily the majority of my lap-top hours on American politics once more. I know that a determined effort ought to be made to get control of my screen-watching again - though the likelihood of either of these two gentlemen appearing on my screen (with my slavering over them) sure don't make it easy for a lone, old, sex-starved being like yours truly.