17:15 Jeg hopper op på min kondicykel og tilbagelægger endnu 9 miles
(15km). Jeg tænder for min smartphone og ser på 1967s bedste sange, mens jeg
cykler. Hver gang jeg hopper op på min kondicykel, stiller jeg året tilbage ét
år, og føler mig i frit fald ned denne lange kaninhul tilbage til mine rødder.
Mens jeg hører sangene, prøver jeg at mindes 1967 årets rolle i min
livshistorie, i et forsøg på, at udskyde demens ha ha ha.
Jeg var dengang studerende, og min far tilbød at tage os alle med til
Irland på ferie. Jeg var 21 år gammel og jeg var meget glad for, at få
muligheden for at se Irland sammen med mine forældre, min lillebror, Steve, og
min lillesøster, Gill. Min anden søster, Kathy, kom ikke med – hun havde ikke
været med til at tage på familieferier, siden hun var en 16-17 årig, bevisende
til evig tid, at hun var meget meget (med ca 900 miles eller 1500km) modnere og
sejere, end mig – pokkers!!! Endda min 15-årige lillebror, Steve, var meget
sejere, end mig (og resten af verdens befolkning var sejere end mig – pokkers (igen) !!!!!!).
Det var, som sædvanligt, mig, der tog fotoer, så der er kun ét foto af mig
i Irland. Og det var meget svært at få min far og bror til at posere for mig –
du godeste!
Tilbageblik
til august 1967
Mig,
som 21-årig, i Ballycullane i grevskabet Wexford
Min
far, min søster Gill, min mor, og min bror Steve
ved
havnen i Ballycotton i grevskabet Cork
I december 1967 takkede min far af som skoleinspektør i en skole i byen
Bristol i sommeren, og startede et nyt job som skoleinspektør i byen Oxford.
Men resten af familien blev boende i Bristol indtil sommeren 1968. Ah ja, jeg
husker det godt – gudskelov (copyright Maurice Chevalier ha ha ha!).
Lykkelige dage!!! Men farvel søde
drømme! Tilbage til virkeligheden...
18:00 Lois og jeg spiser aftensmad og bruger aftenen på at se lidt
fjernsyn. Jeg tænder for min smartphone igen, og jeg ser, at min kusine Ruth
har sendt mid en email. Hun beder mig om at sende hende mine oplysninger om
vores fælles walesiske bedsteforældre, og deres forfadre osv.
Jeg smutter ind i spisestuen og sætter mig foran computeren. Jeg sender
hende mine 2 wordfiler, den ene om Evans-familien (vores bedstefars) og den
anden om Howell(s)-familien. Evans-filen er meget kort, fordi min bedstefar, og
hans far og bedstefar, alle hed ”John Evans”, én af de hyppigste navne i Wales.
Pokkers – min forskning blev snart kvælet i fødslen. Pokkers ! Bare mit held
!!!!!
21:45 Jeg træder tilbage ind i stuen, og jeg er overrasket at se, at Lois
har skiftet kanal for at se det første afsnit den anden sæson af ”Versailles”,
en serie, der handler om Ludvig 14. af Frankrig, og som vi ikke før har set. Allerede efter kun 15
minutter har et stort sæt bryster poppet op på skærmen, og snart står vi til op over begge
ører (muligvis den forkerte metafor) i bryster, gravide maver osv – du godeste.
Det er lidt af et chok, men vi burde have læst artiklen i Radio
Times-tidsskriftet , der advarer seerne om ”patter i massevis” – du godeste,
sikke en skør verden vi lever i!
Vi opgiver programmet kl 22:15, fordi vi kender ikke hvem er hvem, og mange
af hovedfigurerne ligner hinanden fysisk. Derudover kan vi ikke lide for meget
nøgenhed sent på aftenen, for det tilfælde, at vi får mareridt. Vi bliver gamle
– det er der ikke nogen tvivl om !!!!
22:00 Vi går i seng – zzzzz!!!!
04:45 Jeg står tidligt op og laver én af mine rutinemæssige danske
ordforrådtest.
07:30 Jeg trisser ind i køkkenet for at lave to kopper te. Jeg går ind i
udhuset for at fodre Minx, Alisons kat, men mens jeg er i gang med at vaske
hendes katteskål, drøner hun ind i køkkenet
og begynder at skide i hjørnet. Du godeste! Det giver mig lidt af en chok – jeg
diskuterer det senere med Lois.
Minx er 17 år gammel, så derfor kan det være, at hun begynder at lide af
demens – velkommen til klubben, Minx!!!!
Men også har vi set en meget stor sort og hvid kat for nylig i baghaven.
Kan det være, at Minx er bange for at gå ud? Det er juryen stadig ude, men vi
skal holde øje med hende – det ved vi med sikkerhed!!!
08:00 Jeg tager téen op i soveværelset og kravler tilbage under dynen til
Lois. Vi drikker téen og står op.
09:30 Vi går hen i landsbyen og smutter ind i Waghornes, den lokale
slagterforretning, for at købe brød, kød
og ost. Vi kommer tilbage igen og slapper af med en kop te.
Solen skinner og det er ganske varmt i dag. Det er underligt, at Steve, min
amerikanske svigerbror, har sendt mig en artikel, hvor der står, at en frygtelig kuldebølge er
på vej til Storbritannien. Det er der ikke noget tegn på endnu, men ofte disse
kuldebølger har tendens til at ramme kun Skotland og det nordlige England. Lad
os håbe på, at denne kuldbølge er ingen undtagelse. Men jeg har ondt af skotterne
– stakkels skotter!!!!!
Vi går ud i baghaven og luger lidt mellem frugtbuskene i bunden af haven.
12:30 Vi spiser frokost på terrassen. Jeg bliver pludselig klar over, at jeg må have mistet
endnu en plombe, uden at, jeg bemærkede det – uha uha! Jeg har en tid på mandag
hos Josh, vores nye tandlæge, hvor han skal reparere to andre tænder. Du
godeste – han vil være godt gal i skralden på mig! Og aftalen vil være et sandt
mareridt. Hjælp !!!!!
13:15 Jeg går i seng for at tage mig en eftermiddagslur – zzzzzz!!!!!
14:30 Jeg står op. Jeg er færdig med at læse min nuværende sengetidbog,
”Indsamlede digte af John Betjeman”, en julegave fra Lois, så derfor nu kan jeg
begynde på ”Indsamlede digte af Philip Larkin”, en fødselsdagsgave fra Alison,
vores datter i København.
Uden tvivl er ”Klokken fem skygge (et udtryk, der på engelsk også henviser
til daggamle skægstubbe)” Betjemans mest skræmmende digt nogensinde.
Digteren ligger på hospitalet, i en afdeling med andre gamle mænd. Klokken
er fem om eftermiddagen. Han har færdelige smerte, og han føler sig nu for svag
til at modstå sin sygdom længere. Lægerne er i færd med at spille golf på
golfbanen. Afdelingssygeplejersken sidder og slapper af i sit private værelse.
Digteren føler sig sveget af sygehusets personale.
Lige udenfor sygehuset, ét eller andet sted under vinduet, er patienternes slægtninge nu i
parkeringspladsen. De varmer motoren op og kører ud til hovedvejen. De glæder
sig til at spise et stort måltid og ser lidt fjernsyn, når de når hjem. De er
tilfredse, deres samvittighed er ren, de har gjort det bedste de kan for den
syge far, bedstefar, onkel, whatever.
Klokken er 5 om eftermiddagen og digteren er igen helt alene med sin frygt
– yikes, hvor skræmmende, sikke et mareridt !!!!! Jeg håber bare på, at det
sker aldrig for mig !!!!! Yikes (igen) !!!!!
16:00 Lois og jeg slapper af med en kop te i sofaen.
English translation
17:15 I hop up on my exercise bike and notch up another 9 miles
(15 km). I turn on my smartphone and watch 1967's best songs while cycling.
Every time I hop on my fitness bike, I set the year back by one year and feel
myself in free fall down this long rabbit hole back to my roots.
As I listen to the songs, I try
to recall the role of the year 1967 in my life story, in an attempt to postpone
dementia ha ha ha.
I was a student at that time and
my dad offered to take all of us to Ireland on vacation. I was 21 years old and
I was very pleased to have the opportunity to see Ireland with my parents, my
little brother Steve, and my little sister Gill. My other sister, Kathy, did
not come along - she had not joined in with family holidays since she was a
16-17 year old, proving for all time that she was very much (by about 900 miles
or 1500 km ) more mature and cool than me - damn !!! Even my 15 year old little
brother, Steve, was much cooler than me (and the rest of the world's population
was cooler than me - damn (again) !!!!!!).
It was, as usual, me who took the
photos, so there is only one photo of me in Ireland. And it was very hard to
get my father and brother to pose for me - my goodness!
Flashback to August 1967
Me at 21, in Ballycullane in County Wexford
My dad, my sister Gill, my mother, and my
brother Steve
by the harbour in Ballycotton in County Cork
In December 1967, my father
resigned as a principal of a school in Bristol in the summer, and started a new
job as a school principal in the city of Oxford. But the rest of the family
stayed in Bristol until the summer of 1968. Ah yes, I remember it well - thank
God (copyright Maurice Chevalier ha ha ha!).
Happy days !!! But farewell sweet
dreams! Back to reality...
18:00 Lois and I eat dinner and
spend the evening watching television. I turn on my smartphone again and I see
that my cousin Ruth has sent me an email. She is asking me to send her my
information about our shared Welsh grandparents, and their ancestors, etc.
I pop into the dining room and
sit in front of the computer. I send her my 2 word files, one about the Evans
family (our grandfather) and the other about the Howell(s) family. The Evans
file is very short because my grandfather and his father and grandfather were
all called "John Evans", one of the most frequent names in Wales.
Damn - my research was quickly throttled at birth. Damn! Just my luck !!!!!
21:45 I step back into the living
room and I'm surprised to see that Lois has changed the channel to see the
first episode of the second season of "Versailles", a series about
Louis XIV of France, which we have not seen before. After just 15 minutes a big set
of breasts has popped up on the screen, and soon we are up to our ears (possibly
the wrong metaphor) in breasts and pregnant bellies etc - good grief! It's a
bit of a shock, but we should have read the article in the Radio Times
magazine, which warns viewers about "acres of boob-age" - my
goodness, what a crazy world we live in!
We give up the program at 10.15pm
because we do not know who is who and many of the main characters look like
each other physically. Plus, we do not like too much nudity late in the evening,
in case we get nightmares. We are getting old - that's something there's not
much doubt about !!!!
22:00 We go to bed - zzzzz !!!!
04:45 I get up early and do one
of my routine Danish vocabulary tests.
07:30 I toddle into the kitchen
to make two cups of tea. I go to the outhouse to feed Minx, Alison's cat, but
while I'm washing her bowl she zooms into the kitchen and begins to crap in the
corner. My Goodness! It gives me a bit of shock - I discuss it later with Lois.
Minx is 17 years old, so it may
be that she is starting to suffer from dementia – join the club, Minx!!!!!
But we have also seen a very
large black and white cat recently in the backyard. Could it be that Minx is
afraid to leave the house? The jury is still out, but we must keep an eye on her - we know
that for sure !!!
08:00 I take the tea up to the
bedroom and crawl back under the covers with Lois. We drink the tea and get up.
09:30 We walk into the village
and pop into Waghorne's, the local butcher's shop, to buy bread, meat and
cheese. We come back again and relax with a cup of tea.
The sun is shining and it is
quite warm today. It is strange that Steve, my American brother in law, has
just sent me an article saying that a terrible cold wave is coming to Britain.
There is no sign of it yet, but often these cold waves tend to hit only Scotland
and Northern England. Let's hope that this cold wave is no exception. But I
feel sorry for the Scots - poor Scots !!!!!
We go out into the backyard and
do a bit of weeding between the fruit bushes at the bottom of the garden.
12:30 We eat lunch on the patio. I suddenly
realise that I must have lost another filling without noticing it - oh dear oh
dear! I have an appointment on Monday with Josh, our new dentist, when he is
already going to repair two other teeth. My god - he will be furious with me!
And the appointment will be a real nightmare. Help !!!!!
13:15 I go to bed and take an
afternoon nap - zzzzzz !!!!!
14:30 I get up. I have finished
reading my current bedtime book, "Collected poems by John Betjeman",
a Christmas present from Lois, so now I can start on "Collected poems by
Philip Larkin", a birthday present from Alison, our daughter in
Copenhagen.
Without a doubt, "Five
o'Clock Shadow (an expression that in English also refers to day-old
stubble)" is Betjeman's most scary poem ever.
The poet is in the hospital, in a
ward with other old men. The time is five in the afternoon. He has terrible
pains, and he feels too weak now to resist his illness any longer. Doctors are
playing golf on the golf course. The ward sister is sitting and relaxing in her
private room. The poet feels betrayed by the hospital staff.
Just outside the hospital,
somewhere under the window, the patient's relatives are now in the parking lot.
They rev up their engines and drive out to the main road. They are looking
forward to eating a big meal and watching television when they get home. They
are satisfied, their conscience is clear, they have done the best they can for
the sick father, grandfather, uncle, whatever.
The time is 5 in the afternoon
and the poet is again all alone with his fears - yikes, how scary, what a
nightmare !!!!! I just hope that never happens to me - yikes (again) !!!!!
16:00 Lois and I relax with a cup of tea on the sofa.
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