Taking Ioan Gruffudd’s name in vain.


Well, today is a landmark day for me.

I shall enjoy it to the full.


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.


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.


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


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



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.


**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.


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!


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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