Halfway through a special screening of West is West last night, I felt my throat becoming very sore. I fished out an Olbas Oil pastille as quietly as I could and carried on watching.
The film is wonderful; every bit as warm hearted and thought provoking as East is East, and equally poignant and funny. I think it goes on general release next week, or maybe it’s next month. Anyway. Book your seats. You shan’t be disappointed.
Out in the foyer, I turned to my companion and found I’d lost my voice. Ooops.
It still hadn’t reappeared this morning so I rang in sick. which meant I was home when the ‘phone rang. Mother was found lying on the floor and has been admitted to her local hospital via A&E. She’s now been moved to the Emergency Assessment Unit, and I’m advised to call about four to see how she is.
I was feeling fairly sanguine and calm about it, as it sounded as though Mother was shocked and bruised but had probably not broken anything. Then Aunt rang.
She’s my mother’s younger sister, so obviously Northern Irish too. But she spent a fair few years in Scotland, and sometimes she reminds me of John Laurie’s character in Dad’s Army. I don’t mean she widens her eyes and says “we’re doomed” a lot, but she does tend to the cup half empty. I was more than a little taken aback to hear her talking as though Mother were on her death bed.
For obvious reasons, I am hoping she’s overwrought and overreacting, but I am starting to wonder if I shall get to Skye or not.