The Soldier and the Girl

But is it Art?

My neighbour has insisted on giving me two paintings that I have admired. His own work. They are extremely colourful copies of French 19th century artists, and are rather good. I will be happy to have them on my wall. Since his wife died he has become obsessed and I believe he spends most of his waking moments painting, even getting up in the middle of the night to correct detail on a particular work.
He says if he didnt paint he would probably kill himself and I believe him. If only we could be so lucky as to have such an obsesssion. I am still looking for mine.

Humiliations

Yesterday, in between being interupted by Ed, Ed, etc, I endured a tooth extraction. I am not a nervous person when it comes to dental matters. I was attending a new surgery and dentist due to my elusive search for NHS treatment and found this place on one of my walks. There had been a banner outside pronouncing its NHS creditionals and I ventured in and signed up.
Now I was waiting for a tooth pulling and any nerves were more due to the unknown factor. As it turned out, it must have been some pensioner instinct, which over the years, unlike most things, seems to work better the longer I live.
Short of standing on my chest my young female dentist approached the reluctant tooth from every known angle. I looked at her from time to time and what I saw I did not like, even behind the mask I recognise panic when I see it.
One hour later I emmerged to pay and when asked whether I wished to book a six months check up, rather than screaming, “If you think I’m ever setting foot……” I shook my head and dribbled.

To take my mind off things, I decided to have a ironmonger rummage, or hardware if you will. There was a very good looking young man behind the till and I had to ask his advice about some picture hooks. He was obviously chosen for his looks because he knew absolutely nothing about those or anything to do with hardware as far as I could make out. But us pensioners still know a hotty when we come across one so after some old lady young man banter I bought some paint. He even signed me up for some pensioner discount (only on Tuesdays between 9 and 9.30 am or something equally restrictive) and I made off with a spring in my step, these encounters are always energizing I find. On arriving home and looking in the mirror I discoverd to my horror I had been flirting with dried blood dripping down the right side of my mouth.
I have taken some comfort from the fact that I believe the young are currently enamoured of Tranvestite romance.

who will I choose?

No men for years, then five keep pestering me.
There’s David, Ed, Andy, Ed and now Ken. Just when I’m on the train, about to show my ticket, oh! god, its David again, what does he want now? And now Ken wants to meet for drinks on Bank holiday monday, but before then I’m supposed to be having a drink with one of the Eds. At least I know which one it is, because I keep getting David and the other Ed muddled up. And now Diane’s texting.  This rejoining the Labour Party does do wonders for your social life.

Fitness?

A chance remark has left our fitness class in the balance.
An increase of a £1 has caused a walk out. No more running and throwing, press ups and squats.
To console m’self I went to see a Korean film, wonderful, perhaps murder is the answer?