Schizophrenic mouse

Yes, that’s right, there is a schizophrenic mouse here in sunny Italy. The little fellow goes by the name of ‘Topo Gigio‘ and has his own show on TV earlyish on Saturday evenings here. He is quite cute, I suppose, as these characters go. But, he seems to have a bit of a personality crisis. The pressure of being a rodent TV star may be getting the better of him. You see, the little fellow will blather away in an almost normal sounding voice, for a mouse that is, and then, suddenly, his voice will jump two octaves as his alter ego manifests itself. After a few high pitched comments (one may expect high pitched comments from a mouse I suppose. Squeaking is rather high pitched, after all.) his voice returns to normal. However, it does sound as if the little chap could do with a visit to a psychiatrist, one who specialises in counseling mice with personality disorders, that is, if any such persons exist. Maybe there is a shrink out there who could help this poor mouse. If you happen to know of any such person, please tell him or her to get in touch and I’ll pass the info on to ‘Topo Gigio’, in the hope that one of his personalities may recognise the need for some assistance.

In the meantime, my son and I will keep on observing this little character and note when he flips completely and permanently from his ‘normal’, for a mouse, voice to his sinister other high pitched tone. One hopes that the change does not happen on peak time television, as this could very well disturb the many children who tune in to watch this mouse between the advertisments.

I have made this entry in my blog as I feel it is my social duty to draw the world’s attention to such an afflicted animal. A campaign along the lines of ‘Save Topo Gigio from himself’ may well be called for.

Yes, I’m feeling rather flippant today. Must be unwinding or something. Good thing the weekend, we need more of them. How about making Monday to Friday the weekend, and having Saturday and Sunday as the working week? This may help us avoid going the same way as Topo Gigio.

A UFO!!……..not??!!

Have you any idea what the strange object next to the famously lop-sided building might be?

Baby and the hospital

Yesterday was a little traumatic. We spent the best part of the day at a large Italian hospital, which goes by the name of Niguarda. I had heard some bad things about the place and a friend of mine's wife gave birth to their child there and from his accounts the experience was not wonderful. I was fearing the worst, you know, bolshy uncaring staff and unending bureaucracy. Well, I am happy to report that the hospital did not live to my rather negative expectations. Indeed, it turned out to be a relatively painless experience. OK, so we did do a lot of waiting around and got conflicting reports with regard to the availability of the results of our sons CAT scan, but the staff were courteous and efficient.

Niguarda, which is located in North Milan is not so much as hospital as a sort of 'healthcare city'. It is an enormous complex. It would be quite easy to get very lost within the site and I was half expecting to see some long lost patients wandering around, after having come in for day care ten years ago, or something like that. Some of the buildings do have a bit of a run down external appearance, but inside, away from the high walled central corridors, which are frequented by little trucks of the type you see at an airport towing around luggage, it is not too bad. One must say that the Italian flair for architecture and interior decoration does not extend to public hospitals, though.

For those parents whose children who are about to be CAT scanned, I have to say that the process is quite simple and not traumatic for little ones. Our little joy only cried once while they were giving him the anesthetic and we were told to expect this. He drifted off to sleep very quickly and with little fuss. (I did suggest to my other half that we get hold of some of the gas they used to encourage our little one to go to sleep and she was not that averse to this idea.) The scan lasted all of fifteen minutes and baby Marty woke up in his mother's arms about half an hour later. He really was very good, especially when you consider that he had not had anything to eat or drink for several hours before the scan and was not allowed to eat or drink for a couple of hours after it. We took some of his toy cars with us and these served to keep his mind occupied enough to enable him to forget how hungry and thirsty he must have been. After the scan we trundled back to another building, almost getting lost in the process, and were sent upstairs to another section to wait for the results of the scan, which as it turned out, never arrived. The hanging around did seem to be a bit of a waste of time, but the doctor who had seen Marty last week wanted to see him again to be on the safe side.

This doctor worked in a children's' section and her waiting room was chock full of parents and children all waiting their turns. The waiting process was greatly aided by the fact that there were a number of volunteers handing out toys to all the kids there. The selection of toys and games was extensive and really did help to keep the children's' minds off all the poking and prodding which usually comes with a visit to the doctors. It also helped many of the parents to stay relaxed too. It was a very well run unit indeed. My better half was there last week and told me that one little patient got so involved in playing with the toys that he did not want to leave when the time came. Strange to here about a child not wanting to escape from a hospital is it not?

As part of the bid to try to find the cause of Marty's swollen eye, as I mentioned in a previous entry, Marty went to see a couple of specialists including one very helpful 'Professoressa' , a 'consultant' in English, I believe, and this lady was also responsible for training other doctors too. She was excellent and being a teacher myself, I reckon that she must be a very good educator as well as being a top class medic. She gave us her email address and asked us to let her know the results of the CAT scan. My other half emailed her today to say that the results were not yet ready and this doc replied very promptly and sent us her mobile phone number. She obviously cares very deeply about her patients and this impressed me very much. Not all doctors are famous for their bedside manners, but she should be.

To sum up, although we don't yet know anything new and conclusive, I do feel confident that we soon will and have to give the Italian health service top marks on this occasion. Credit where credit is due.

Metering out………..power cuts.

The meter in question, m’lud, is the little box which sits in a cupboard recording how much electrical energy we have to pay for. The black box works very closely with its good friend, who goes by the name of ‘circuit breaker’, can’t remember the Italian and can’t be bothered to dig out the dictionary. I do apologise if you had an inexplicable desire to know how to say circuit breaker in Italian. OK, found it ‘salvavita’, the dictionary was only at arms length, but I’m scribbling in gloom. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the two little boxes which connive to make life a little more challenging.

How exactly do they go about doing this? Well, they wait, silently and very patiently for just the right inconvenient moment. Then what do they do? You may well ask. The little darlings impose a lovely little impromptu power cut on the unsuspecting unfortunates who inhabit this appartment. Namely, us.

I have yet to work out the exact combination required to cause the circuit breaker to get all intolerant, but I am sure that its actions are based on some incredibly complex algorithm developed by phenomenally intelligent high browed types, who got passed over by CERN and ended up working for the local electricity board.

Suffice it to say that the dear accomplices seem to randomly decide, or so it would seem, when to impose a power cut. One is rather reluctant to admit that one’s yearning for a humble cup of Nescafè may possibly have been to blame for one (er, some, Oh all right, most) of these wildcat blackouts, but on occasion one’s capacity to make a mental note of just which electrical appliances are doing their washing, dishwashing, baking and/or toasting stuff, just before one goes and innocently flicks the little switch on the kettle, sometimes fails one.

Having a cup of coffee did once seem to be such an innocent pleasure.

Of course, I have been advised, one can pay for the privilege of paying more for one’s electricity. For the inconsequential sum of 183 Euros, one can ask the electricity board to upgrade the complex algorithm to one which permits making a cup of coffee while one is carrying out other normal daily tasks. However, one is not sure one is quite ready for such overt freedom. Would take all the fun out of making a cup of coffee, wouldn’t it?

Right, I’m off to make a cup of coffee. Boy, what a risk-taker I am. Who needs extreme sports?

Revolution: Britain

Revolution: Britain is my first reall attempt at writing a novel. I started it some time ago and it is as yet unfinished, although I have written something like 16 chapters. I need an excuse to find some time to finish it, so I would like people to have a look and say how much it stinks or otherwise.

The more feedback I get, the more chapters I will publish. If you like what you read, let me know and the story will continue.

Over to you readers.

Tanguy

This is just a quick entry about a French comedy called 'Tanguy'. It's about this guy who just will not leave home and how his parents try just about everything to get him out of their house.

Some Italian friends of ours recommended it and we loved it! So much that we bought a copy. However, it does not really reflect the Italian tradition of remaining with your parents until you are sometimes well over 30 years of age. Italian parents would not go through the same antics as Tanguy's – Italians love to keep their offspring at home for some reason. Italian mums never seem to tire of cooking and washing for their family and go out of their way to discourage independence, or so it would seem. Strange and totally different from the UK.

Check out Tanguy and see if you can rent a copy on DVD from your local Blockbuster or video rental store. I don't think you will regret getting hold of a copy.