Lost in translation ..... again

If you’ve read “Letters” you’ll have an idea what a minefield I find trying to speak/understand another language.  Here’s another example.

On a recent visit to our G.P., the good man listened patiently (as he always does) to my mutterings and when I had finished, said to me IN ENGLISH  “I’d like to see your bladder”.

Ok, now perhaps I should explain a few things here before I continue.   Firstly our doctor is a “nuclear specialist” which means he’s into imaging techniques and has an ultrasound-scanning machine in his surgery. Secondly, like many Italians he likes to practise his English when he sees me. 

I hopped up onto the examination table as directed and bared my stomach.  The doctor poured that freezing cold gel on (does anyone know why it’s so cold?) and began to pass the camera just under my ribs.  I thought to myself, “well I don’t know, but I’m sure when I was at school my bladder wasn’t there” but being far to busy trying to make out what was on screen I didn’t dwell on the thought.

“It’s nothing” the doctor began (in Italian now) “just a cyst”.   

Vito realising I might not be familiar with some of the words, translated as the doctor spoke. I’ve never had to discuss my bladder before, or anyone else’s here for that matter, so why would I be familiar with the word?  It’s not the kind of thing that comes up in general conversation is it?  I mean do you, on meeting an old friend say “Oh hi!  It’s been ages since I saw you, how’s your bladder these days?”  Or  “I was just thinking of you and your bladder”.  See what I mean?

“Ah but you’ve got a stone!,”  the doctor continued

My ears pricked up.  “Diamond? Ruby?”

“No, just a stone”.  I looked over at Vito to confirm. He nodded.

“Well that’ll be something to look forward to”  (not).

“And a polyp”

“In for a penny, in for a pound”

The doctor handed me some paper to wipe off the gel and beckoned to the chair in front of his desk and as I wriggled my clothing back into some sort of order, he chatted to Vito.  I’ll admit I was listening until I heard him say

“If you want my advice, I think you should have it out”.

Stop the world, I want to get off!!!

“You want to take out my bladder?” 

 “It’s nothing” the doctor said mildly.

“It’s nothing????” I screeched in English carried there on a wave of hysteria.

“My wife had it done”

“Your wife had her bladder taken out?” (He said it so calmly.  What kind of monster was he?????)

And then my brain (finally) clicked into gear.

“GALLbaldder” I shouted at him

“Yes, bladder” he agreed.

“No not bladder, GALLbladder”

“What’s bladder then?”

I cupped my hands into a ball shape, “it’s where pee pee is made”

“Oh”.

Nearly had a heart attack!

We're having a lot of weather lately ....

Before I begin can I draw your attention to this link please?  It's a fundraising effort by a friend in London on behalf of the MS society in the UK where she works. Please check it out and pass it on to anyone you think could help this good cause.  Many thanks :)

Ok on to “we’re having a lot of weather lately …”

Years ago an older member of the family made the above comment, causing us to giggle at her rather “unusual” expression, although we all knew what she meant.  Living in the UK it’s easy to understand what “a lot of weather” conveys.  When Vito came to the UK for the first time, he sat watching the weather forecast a couple of days after arriving with a bemused expression on his face.

“How can they show a map of the UK with every kind of weather symbol on it all at the same time?

“Wait” I replied.

We hadn’t reached the end of the week before he told me nodding wisely, “now I understand”.

This morning, opening the shutters once more to see a dismally overcast sky and feel nippy air on my face, I found myself wondering what on earth was going on.

It’s June now for goodness sake!  I can’t remember it ever being so cold here at this time of year, nor remember the weather being so changeable.  In the UK it’s normal to go out in June in a summer dress and sandals and wish you were wearing a winter coat by midday, but here? By now the sun is usually shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky, the temperature well up in the 80s, and the heat with a really fierce “bite” to it too.  Instead this year the temperature charts are well below average and nothing is constant except for inconstancy although it’s true, the result can sometimes be pretty.

Shades of “The Day after Tomorrow?”  Or a replay of “The Year without a Summer “ (1816) which from reports sound not too dissimilar to this year?  

The Day after Tomorrow – could it really happen?

http://www.wunderground.com/resources/education/thedayafter.asp?MR=1

Another Year without a summer – is it possible?

http://history1800s.about.com/od/crimesanddisasters/a/The-Year-Without-A-Summer.htm

Are we in for a horror scenario for real in the near future?

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/11/091130112421.htm

I don’t know but one thing for sure, this piling on of clothes, and then stripping off a while later only to get dressed again within minutes is far too reminiscent of the menopause for my liking.

Roll on summer 

"Er upstairs"

Do you remember the TV series “Minder”?  It starred Dennis Waterman and George Cole who played the role of Arthur Daley?  If you remember the Arthur Daley character used to refer to his wife (who was never seen throughout the entire run) as “er indoors”.  Well I've got "er upstairs"

This is she.

Er Upstairs on the balcony

Don’t be fooled by how sweet she looks.  This one is pure tartar!

We’ve known “er upstairs” for about eight years, but until last year she was completely wild.  Refused point blank to have anything to do with humans beyond berating them from a windowsill for not putting out food on time. Try and touch her and she was off at the speed of light. 

I would love to be able to tell you that this young lady was … a young lady.  I afraid I cannot tell a lie.  She would go out on the tiles, and return with the whole cake shop, never mind one bun in the oven.  My neighbours and I despaired as yet another litter of kittens was dumped on us (she knew we’d take care of them) as she went to find a suitable place to have the next lot.  It took its toll on all of us, as we had to tame the kittens, pay a vet to check them out, find them decent homes, and not least deal with children who had got attached to the kittens and cried buckets when they left.

Several of us (neighbours) finally conspired to catch her and with a sigh of relief, took her to the vet to be sterilized.  After that, er upstairs led a quieter life, and so did we.  I still couldn’t get her to come close though until last winter when she took up residence in a small kennel I put on my balcony in an attempt to offer her some shelter from the cold.  After a few weeks she decided to come indoors via the upstairs balcony door.  She's been upstairs ever since and will not come down for love or money.

Every morning when I go downstairs to feed the others a plaintive miaowing from above “don’t forget me” (fat chance!) nags incessantly.

Pleading, coaxing, terrifying, yelling, clucking, chasing – NOTHING gets her downstairs, and so I spend my days running up and down to let her in, let her out or feed her at her demand (or be driven crazy by her unabating calls). 

She will let me touch her now. She purrs profusely.  I often find her sleeping by my feet in the morning.  She’s not an ungrateful or unaffectionate mistress. 

But she always has the last laugh.