Taking Ioan Gruffudd’s name in vain.

Hi,

Well, today is a landmark day for me.

I shall enjoy it to the full.

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You may remember that in a previous post about three months age, I told you that  Big H had started doing work in the living room, along with his assortment of various tools, ladders and accompanying pieces of detritus.

Well, he began doing that on a day when he was feeling unusually well, but it did not last.

Soon he was back to falling asleep in the chair every five minutes and generally being quite ill.

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Luckily, for the sake of the survival of our marriage,  I am not greatly bothered about housework etc.

I am usually too busy in my own head, thinking about a new painting or writing a children’s story.

But, finally, even I could not stand it anymore and was getting annoyed by it, to the point of becoming a nagging ratbag.

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Every time I went into the living room it was like being Pip, on a visit to Miss. Haversham’s house.**

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Finally, I was forced to present a strong ultimatum to the cause of this continuing mess and frustration.

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Now the work is finished and I have my living room back and I am going to have a fine, tidy, clutter free, stepladderless Sunday.

I hope that you do too.

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**Great Expectations.  Charles Dickens.

There is a marvellous adaptation available starring Bernard Hill, Charlotte Rampling and Ioan Gruffudd.

The family all had a great laugh, thanks to one of the stars of this film ( and the people in the video shop did too), when we were visiting my eldest son’s flat in London, a long time ago.

I offered to go and get us a video at the nearby shop, as we would have a good film to watch when our takeaway arrived.

I took my mobile, so that I could ask their opinions, and in order to check that my son had not already hired the film I fancied.

Well, you already know that I am horribly shortsighted, and encroaching age makes things quite hard to read properly in a bad light.

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So, there I was, film chosen, ringing Mr. T to check it all out with him.

I told him the title, loudly and clearly, but  he said that as it did not ring a bell with him, I would need to tell him who the star of the film was.

I read the smaller print of the credits carefully, while standing squeezed in amongst all the other people who were desperate to amuse themselves on a chilly winter’s night, and making quite a lot of hubbub whilst doing so.

“The star is some woman called Joan Griffiths”  I shouted confidently.

My son could hardly speak for laughing, until eventually he got it together enough to tell me that the star wasn’t a woman called Joan Griffiths, it was a really good young actor called IOAN GRUFFUDD!

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Well, what can I say.

Not only did we enjoy the film, but my ignorance gave all the other patrons a good laugh too.

Little ray of sunshine, that’s me.

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Jx

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