The King's Speech

I'm currently in a wonderful state of flux at the moment and I know that this is part of the reason that I'm currently coughing my lungs up with painful regularlity. It's like I have something on my chest that can't excape. Some call it Christmas, others, change, others would say it's the fact that my soul isn't sitting well in my body. Whatever it is, it's uncomfortable in the least. I'll find out in a day or so whether it's whooping cough or not. Regardless, that's what the doctor at Victor Harbor is treating me for - better safe than sorry.

Thankfully, all the Christmas merriment is over, what merriment there was. I chose to skip the traditional lunch with my stepdad's family, as I was feeling like crap, choosing to stay at my Mum's place and read a book instead, to join them at my sister's later in the afternoon - it wasn't the day to be nice to popele I'd never met. On arriving at my sister's, the family were found in the living room and my sister was lying on the bathroom floor, crying because she wanted to vomit. Seems she'd picked up a round of gastro. So a quick meal of cold cuts, salad and prawns, with some left over Christmas pudding, that was it for the year. A bit of an anticlimax, but all I was up for at the time. Actually, thinking about it, it's not a bad way to spend Christmas, with a good book and the odd DVD. Okay, I got my wish - minimal participation. Kewwwllll.

Boxing Day - not that we have it here in South Australia - only place in Christendom that doesn't - was a bit more special.

Mum and I sent off for the movies to see "The King's Speech". Mum and I do this quite often when I'm over - both of us like movies, but she rarely goes - so if there is something she might like, I take her. It was great to go down to the cinema to see that ninety percent of the cinema were in sensible shoes and baggy jeans with elasticated waists, sporting grey hair and tiffing with somebody my age about the seating allocation. Seems half of Southern Adelaide had the same idea - take Mum and Dad to the nice movie on Boxing Day - better than seeing the rellies.

Of the movie, if either Colin Firth or Geoffrey Rush don't get an Oscar nod for this, then something is very wrong with the movie industry. It is EXCELLENT. Superb film. Not only because Lionel Logue, the King's Speech Therapist, was originally from Adelaide - just the whole thing - the subtle relationships, the push me/pull you jibing, the conscience of the king... it all rang too true - especially the sight of the voiceless man struggling in his own family. The costumes were brilliant, the acting divine. Just see it. Definitely worth the price of the ticket, even if it is to only drool over Colin Firth.

There was some extra poignency for me with the film. Not only because there were tones of what a friend is going through at the moment and how he copes, but for my own situation. At one point in the film, the king was talking about his childhood and what things were like. How he was made to write with his right hand, how his family teased him mercilessly about his stammer, how he was born with knocked knees and spent a lot of time in calipers to correct the legs.... it all was a bit close to the bone.

Both Mum and I left the cinema wanting to go back and see it again. A seriously good film.

So now what? I'm about to leave Myponga and head to the big smoke for the day. Taking my nieces to the movies this time. Big niece, Lola, and little nice, Gigi, are now eleven and seven. You can do things with them now, and thankfully they're good kids. Going to the movies is a legitimate outing - and a good excuse for me to see a kid's film on the big screen. I was thinking about going to the gym beforehand, but I spent an hour coughing during the night - best leave it for a day or so.

It's going to be hard leaving Myponga this time. I've had a lovely break. I haven't had to cook or clean or do much about the house. I haven't eaten too much for a change. Mum's new kitchen is spectacular. After fifteen years suffering a 1950's kitchen set, Mum now comes home to this:

There is something pretty special about watching the kangaroos under the willows as you're eating your breakfast. Mum also said I had to put up the photo of the poppies that adorn the back wall of the kitchen on the blog. Mums, phah. What can you do with them?

She's in love with her new kitchen. Actually, so am I - it's wonderful.

Tomorrow morning, after a night at my sister's place, probably spent snuggled up to the golden retriever for the night I'll set off back for Melbourne in the morning.

In the mean time, I'm going to sit on the verandah and watch the kangaroos graze under the clothes line. You don't find that everywhere. Just a bit of ordinary magic.