Martyn Hooper

Many of you have been asking about the book that I have written that seeks to clarify just what B12 Deficiency is, what Pernicious Anaemia is and explores the consequences and impact of the disease on sufferers.

Well, it’s written and is now with the publisher being edited.  It is due for publication in early April of this year and the title has been agreed as being:

Pernicious Anaemia – the forgotten disease.  The Causes and Consequences of Vitamin B12 Deficiency.

Choosing the title was harder than writing the book as it had to include Vitamin B12 Deficiency.  The book is written in plain English which, when you are describing complex biochemistry can be a challenge and it includes lots of case studies showing how shabbily we sufferers are being treated.

If you want any more information please don’t hesitate to ask on here.

Bye for now

M

I have now asked members to put down on paper their stories of wrong or mis diagnosis and poor treatment.  Hopefully this will prove to be more evidence that there is an urgent need for the way in which Pernicious Anaemia is diagnosed and treated to be reviewed.

Below is a selection of the stories in condensed form and with the original names having been changed to protect patient’s identities:

The Lorry Driver’s Christmas.  “My son is 36 yrs old and he might as well be 80.  He is struggling to keep his job as a heavy goods vehicle driver.  He is constantly tired, comes home from his work and usually goes straight to bed without even bothering to eat anything.  He has absolutely no social life.  Last Christmas he finished work at 4pm on Christmas eve, went to bed and didn’t get up until 4pm on Boxing Day.  He struggles to find words, is irritable, cannot concentrate and yet his GP just tells him that he is slightly depressed and that he needs to ‘get a life’.  I am watching my son die a slow horrible death. His grandmother had Pernicious Anaemia and I suspect he has it too.  He has had blood tests and they show that his B12 level is 152mcg/ml.  The doctor has told him that he cannot have any B12 until his levels fall below 150.  He will be next tested in September”.

Bill’s Ruined Holiday.“They offered me Anti-Depressants when I asked for an injection at ten weeks instead of twelve” says Bill, 72 yrs old from Birmingham.  “I have been fighting this for fifteen years.  A few days after the injection I feel fine, then after about a month I start going downhill again.  When the nurse took blood after ten weeks she was horrified to see that it was over 500 and so refused to give me another injection until another three months and two weeks had passed.  So I had to go begging the doctor to at least re-instate the three month regime.  Three weeks ago, just before I went on my two week holiday I went to him and asked if I could have the injection before I went on holiday – the three months was up the day after I got back from Spain. I even offered to pay him anything he wanted just to give it to me now and then.   He refused and I had a horrible time away.  I even took the little glass bottle with the injection in it in case I collapsed.  The doctor told me he couldn’t possibly give it to me at ten weeks because ‘it will thicken your blood and you could easily die’”

The Inmate.  I received a letter from a patient who is currently in custody serving a prison sentance.  The letter was the usual stuff about not being able to access more frequent injections and the prison doctor suggesting that he might be depressed.  I had to send him the information pack that we send to new members with the usual information on the different supplements that he could be taking – although I know well enough that any sub-lingual lozenges, or oral sprays will probably not be allowed by the prison authorities.  From news stories about prison life it is probable that he would be able to access heroin much easier than getting hold of an injection of Vitamin B12.  What does that tell you?

This is a true story that happened just after Christmas 2010.

I had taken a seasonal job delivering ‘Meals on Wheels’ to elderly housebound people in the mountainous area to the north of Cardiff in Wales.  The service is provided by the local authority who charge a minimum amount for a two course hot meal that is delivered using a fleet of small vans.  In the winter Meals on Wheels is especially useful as not only does it guarantee that the most vulnerable in the community receive a well balanced hot meal, but it also means that the customers also have a visitor who might be their only human contact every day who is able to identify any problems encountered by the client and relay that information to social services.  It’s a valuable service.

The vans that are used to deliver the Meals on Wheels are not especially adapted for their purpose.  The food is kept hot using thick, insulating boxes.  If the food is loaded onto the van at 10:30 in the morning it is still piping hot at 3 in the afternoon when the last deliveries take place.  The insulating boxes just sit on the floor of the loading area and are stacked up.  The winter of 2010 has been the coldest for decades with widespread snow disruption.  This has meant that the vans that are normally used have had to be replaced by four-wheel drive vehicles that are driven by their owners who volunteer their services free of charge although they do get remunerated for the fuel used.  Using the volunteer drivers over snow covered roads means that the delivery time is longer than usual, but it ensures that the service is kept running.

It was a bitterly cold Wednesday that saw me struggling to drive to the Community Centre that acted as the depot where the meals are prepared.  I skidded and slid all the way to the village that housed the community centre and arrived ten minutes later than I was supposed to, even though I had left my house twenty minutes earlier than usual, allowing extra time for the journey because of the snow.  Some of my fellow workers had not managed to get to the centre and so my lateness was completely overlooked and the supervisor was genuinely glad to see me.

“You’ll be working with Annette and Josh today” she told me, adding “Josh is a volunteer 4×4 driver – that’s him over there with Annette”.

I walked over to where Annette was chatting to a tall, well-built black man.  Annette acknowledged me and broke off her conversation with Josh.

“I didn’t think you would make it” she said.

“I nearly didn’t” I replied.

“Martyn, this is Josh who is driving us today”  John smiled revealing a set of pristine white teeth. He offered his hand and I took it.  It completely covered my hand – his hands were as big as shovels. He was tall and well-built with broad shoulders and a large chest – the results no doubt of having done many years of hard manual work with his two shovels.

“Pleased to meet you” he said cheerfully.

“I’m pleased to meet you too” I replied.  Turning to Annette I asked how many deliveries we would be making.

“Twenty two – we’ve had a lot of telephone cancellations – they didn’t want us to injure ourselves delivering their meals” she said, to both Josh and me.  “We are just waiting for three more dinners to be plated and then we can finish loading and start”.

“This is going to be fun” I said.  Josh laughed and agreed with me.  Annette placed the last few dinners into the Land Rover.  I climbed into the back of the vehicle where a bench type seat ran the length of the loading area.  There was no seat belt.  This was an old vehicle.  At my feet were the boxes of hot food that filled the Land Rover with the aroma of roast lamb and vegetables.  The windows began to steam up.

All was going well.  Josh certainly knew how to drive in snow and ice and, apart from one small skid, he negotiated the steep hills and sharp bends admirably.  We delivered the last of the meals just before 2:pm and we headed back to the depot.  Snow lay everywhere, and the route that we took back was picturesque as the sun glimmered on the white blanket.  We turned off the main road and headed down a lane that would save ten minutes on our journey.  As we gingerly made our way between high hedges we noticed a farm tractor ahead that had stopped next to a gate and the farmer was offloading bales of hay for the sheep that were in the field.  We couldn’t pass the tractor as it was a narrow lane and the farmer hadn’t pulled into the little recess just in front of the gate.  The atmosphere inside the Land Rover suddenly changed and Josh turned very angry.

“Why oh why here of all places” he shouted, startling both Annette and me.  “I hate this lane, and I hate this gate – why didn’t he pull in?  How long are we going to stuck here – here of all the places to have to stop?”  He suddenly leaned across Annette and locked her door before quickly locking his at the same time as he brought the vehicle to a halt.  He stared ahead.  “Look” he said as he held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve.  I couldn’t believe it.  The thick hair on his arm were standing completely upright.  His eyes were wide open and darting from side to side.

“What is it Josh?” Annette asked.

“I can’t tell you now” he answered in a voice full of panic. His shoulders were haunched, his breathinng was shallow and rapid.  He was extremely tense and nervous. This was a different man to the one who had been so cheerful a minute earlier.

The vehicle fell silent whilst Josh twisted and squirmed in his seat.  “I hate this place” he shouted, then kept repeating in a lower voice to himself “I hate this place, why here, I hate this bloody place”.

It seemed like an hour but in reality no more than four minutes had passed when the farmer closed the gate, waved at us, and got back in the tractor.  We followed the tractor out of the lane and back onto the main road where he pulled in to the side to let us pass.  Josh let out a huge sigh and we both noticed that his shoulders relaxed and he started breathing normally.

“I’m sorry” he said as we got out of the Land Rover and walked into the depot.  Both Annette and I mumbled something about it not mattering.  Josh hadn’t said another word on the way back to the depot.  This is the first time he had spoken since the incident with the tractor.  “Sit there and I’ll get you a mug of tea” Annette told him, and Josh walked slowly to the table Annette had pointed to.

“What the hell was that all about” I said to Annette as we waited to be served.

“I don’t know but he was absolutely terrified” she replied.  “I have never seen anyone behave like that before” she added.

We carried three mugs of hot tea to the table that Josh was sitting at alone.

“You deserve an explanation” he said, staring into the mug.  Neither Annette or I said anything.  We certainly didn’t argue with his statement as we both wanted to know what had happened to turn this pleasant, easy-going man into a frightened and unpredictable neurotic.  We waited whilst Josh continued to regain his composure.  He shuffled uneasily in the chair and, without looking at either of us related the events of ten years earlier that had been the reason for his sudden change in behaviour.

“It was just after Christmas ten years ago” he began.  “The 27th of December 1999 – four days before the new Millennium.  It was a Monday and it was a beautiful clear night at seven o’clock.  I was driving home after taking my mother shopping in Cardiff in the winter sales.  It was the day after boxing day”.  His voice started to tremble but he checked himself, took a deep breath, sipped is hot tea and carried on, in a slow determined manner.

“I had had two mugs of tea with my mother and was driving home through that lane – the one we were stuck in.  I needed to take a pee really badly but thought I would make it to the pub just opposite where we left the lane and re-joined the main road.  I soon became obvious that I needed to go before then and so I pulled into the little recess where the gate was.  The gate that the farmer emerged from”  He paused, and for the first time looked up at Annette and I before returning to stare at the table.  He took another sip of tea and continued.

“I went through the gate which was closed but not locked, walked a few paces behind the hedge so nobody could see me from the lane – although there was no traffic around – and did what I had to do.  I closed the gate as I strolled back to my car and suddenly felt uneasy.  I looked to my left and there, in the passenger seat, was a man.  A thin white-haired man in an old black jacket who just stared at me.  He just stared.  Didn’t say a word – just stared”.  Josh’s eyes were wide open and his shoulders were once again haunched.  “I know this sound crazy but he was talking to me just by staring.  He was saying ‘just drive, just drive, don’t ask questions just drive’. I drove.  Oh yes – I drove like a madman.  I didn’t care for danger – I just wanted to be with other people.  I wanted to drive as fast as I could to the pub at the end of the lane.  In less than five minutes I was screeching to a halt in the pub car park.  The windows of the bar had no curtains and so quickly did I drive into that car park that a couple of regulars at the bar looked out of the window to see what the comotion was outside.  I got out of the car as quickly as possible.  I was away from the glaring man.  I was so relieved.  I wanted to confront him, ask him what he thought he was doing.  My heart was pounding, my legs were weak but I was going to scare the life out of that mererable creep just as he had frightened me.  I waited for him to get out.  He didn’t.  I bent down to the driver’s window to tell him to leave my car.

There was nobody in there.  The car was empty.  The staring man had gone.

“That is so creepy”! blurted Annette.  “Oh my God- that is so creepy” she went on.  “No wonder you were spooked”.

Josh said nothing but stared at the table as he drank his tea.

“Oh well, we’d better be starting for home” I said.  Annette started to put her coat on then Josh said “There’s more”.  Annette sat back down at the same time as me.  We watched Josh.  Josh talked a little quicker.

“I was so astounded that I went into the pub and ordered a whisky.  I took it to the table nearest the fire and stared into the fire.  Had I imagined it?  No way.  Had I been dreaming?  No way.  I tell you that man with the stare that could speak was in my car.  How he had got out I didn’t know.  I wanted to go home as fast as I could then.  I downed the whisky and headed for the door.  As I was passing the bar a man came in through the door in a terrible state.  He blurted out to the men at the bar - “I’ve just run over a woman.  She went right over the roof of the car”.

The men at the bar immediately stood upright.  One of them said “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know”.

“What do you mean you don’t know?  Did you stop?”

“Of course I stopped.”

“Is she hurt” demanded one of the men.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I stopped the car and got out to help her – but there was nobody there”.

The bar went silent.  The landlord spoke.  “Did she run out of a field through a gate?”

The man looked stunned.

“Yes – but the gate was shut”.

Kim’s mother was getting a new car.  And as Kim used to borrow her mother’s car to get to work she was quite excited when her mother told her she was getting a new car.

“It’s going to be a Nissan Micra – the car that I learned to drive in” she told Miranda.

“That’ll be great” commented Miranda.  I said nothing.

After about a week of anticipation Kim arrived one morning having driven the new car into work.  She was in quite a huff.

“It’s not new – it’s a used car.  I was expecting a new car but it’s not – it’s old.  It’s an old car not brand new”

Miranda replied as positively as she could to Kim’s disappointment.

“Oh – an old car!  Does it have a Choke?”

“Does it have a what?”

“A Choke.”

“What’s one of those?”

“Oh I don’t know – but I know that old cars have them.”

“No – I don’t think it does have one of those.”

I suddenly felt very old.

Eliza and Sally – Similarities & Differences.

Two of the biggest musical films of the twentieth century appear, on the face of it, to be two completely different works dealing with two different subjects.  However, the similarities between the two productions go much further than them both being successful musicals.  Scrape beneath the surface and you begin to see that the movies have much more in common than is commonly believed.  Yet there are sufficient differences between the two productions to mark them as two completely independent works that are different in subject matter and tale.

I will begin this comparison and contrast by first of all examining the similarities between the two films.  The second half of this essay will concentrate on the main differences between the two.  I will only examine the main differences because, as more examination of the two films will uncover unlimited differences that could go on forever.

The first similarity is glaringly obvious – both stories are musicals that feature a central female character.  My Fair Lady’s Eliza Doolittle dominates every scene she appears in throughout the film – even if Audrey Hepburn’s acting ability has been subject to criticism during the summer[i].  Similarly Liza Minnelli slipped into Sally Bowles’ character worryingly easily to produce an Oscar winning performance playing the second rate singer in a seedy back-street club.  Whilst Hepburn’s performance didn’t qualify even for an Oscar nomination her magical transformation from street flower-seller to sophisticated lady of society still has the power to transfix audiences of all classes.  Both Eliza and Sally are the focal points of the films with male characters playing catch-up and ultimately being made to look inferior to the two women.

The second similarity is more social.  Both films were set immediately before a catastrophic period of change.  My Fair Lady is set in Edwardian London just a few years before the First World War.  It was a time of Suffragettes and calls for governments to become involved in trying to alleviate the poverty and injustice of the lower classes.  The new Liberal governments were challenging the very structure of British high society with reform of the House of Lords[ii] and there was a rise in membership and expectation of Trades Unions.  The unrest was Europe wide and ended in the carnage of the Great War.  Ironically, the outcome of the peace talks at the end of the war led to Germany being punished financially and this in turn led to the rise of the Nazi Party just about the time Sally was asking Brian if he had “taken on the whole of the Nazi Party” and singing that “life is a Cabaret ol’ chum, come to the Cabaret”

A further similarity is that both films were based on books (Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion and Joe Masteroff’s Cabaret) that were both to be performed on Broadway before being transferred to film.  Consequently both productions can be said to have the same heritage.  Linked to this is the actual subject matter.

The chief similarity between the two films is that running through both the books, plays and films is the central theme of morality in general and female morals in particular.  Is it right that a Professor of Phonetics should take it upon himself to transform (or mould) a dirty flower seller into a lady of society?  It is uncomfortable to contemplate and just as uncomfortable to watch.  And the reason it makes us uncomfortable is that this is not just an exercise in social engineering (which is suspicious) but it is also about clearly declaring that those who are upper class are better than those of the lower classes.  This is what Bernard Shaw was commenting on.  And it is what Professor Higgins is attempting to do – not only raising a flower girl to the higher ranks of society, but also making her a better person in the process whereas Liza was always a ‘good’ person – “I’m a good girl, I am”.

Whilst My Fair Lady lacks the essential moral dilemmas relating to sex and race that is found in Cabaret, it still has at its core the question of what is right and what is wrong.  Is it right that Professor Higgins treats Eliza as if she is a third rate citizen?  Does turning Eliz into a lady automatically make her a good person?

Mrs. Higgins: However did you learn good manners with my son around?
Eliza Doolittle: It was very difficult. I should never have known how ladies and gentlemen really behaved, if it hadn’t been for Colnel Pickering. He always showed what he thought and felt about me as if I were something better than a common flower girl. You see, Mrs. Higgins, apart from the things one can pick up, the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she is treated. I shall always be a common flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me like a common flower girl, and always will. But I know that I shall always be a lady to Colonel Pickering, because he always treats me like a lady, and always will[iii].

This is all about behaviour – behaviour that is proper and behaviour that is wrong.  Professor Higgins’ experiment to change the way Eliza speaks is the first, but to him, important step in transforming her into a lady.  To most (but sadly not all) this is wrong and, more to the point, unnecessary as Eliza was already a lady in that she was already a good person.  It was he who is in the wrong, not Eliza.

Sally Bowles, on the other hand, convinces us that she is promiscuous and proud of her ability to procure men from all classes –

“I’m going to be a great film star! That is, if booze and sex don’t get me first”.

Whilst Eliza would have been shocked at Sally’s attitude towards life, Sally realises that being promiscuous is not the same as being immoral.

Sally: Of course, I may bring a boyfriend home occasionally, but only occasionally, because I do think that one ought to go to the man’s room if one can. I mean, it doesn’t look so much as if one expected it, does it?

When Sally’s father sends her a telegram she seems hurt that her father refuses to use more than ten words.  That, for Sally, is immoral.

Sally: Ten words exactly. After ten it’s extra. You see, Daddy thinks of these things. If I had leprosy, there’d be a cable: “Gee, kid, tough. Sincerely hope nose doesn’t fall off. Love.”

It is these ethical dilemmas that run through both productions.  In Cabaret we have the moral problems associated with abortion –

Brian Roberts: You did it, didn’t you?
Sally: Did what, darling?
Brian Roberts: The abortion. In God’s name, why?
Sally: One of my whims?

along with race (Natalia Landauer) and wealth inequality (Maximilian von Heune).  Sally’s sexual promiscuity and Brian’s bisexuality are treated with an attitude that was unusual in the 1930s -

Sally: Bri, listen… we’re practically living together, so if you only like boys I wouldn’t dream of pestering you.
[pause]
Sally: Well, do you sleep with girls or don’t you?
Brian: Sally! You don’t ask questions like that!
Sally: I do.

Set against these personal moral issues is the continual presence of a growing Nazi presence – perhaps the most immoral issue of them all.

The differences between the two films are not as great as you would imagine.  When I first saw this question I imagined that the contrasts between the films would be easy to identify and the similarities would be the difficult part.  There are, however several striking differences.

The first difference is in the two characters of Eliza Doolittle and Sally Bowles.  Whereas Eliza arouses in us a sense of pity and innocence, Sally is seen as self-confident if a little tragic.  Whilst Eliza struggles with her pronunciation, Sally seems to be trying a little too hard to convince us that she is an advocate of a permissive society.  Eliza is meek and forced to fight her corner.  Sally takes on society and other people with a confidence and contempt that makes us, well, a little frightened of her.  Eliza is suspicious of kindness –

Professor Henry Higgins: Have some chocolates, Eliza.
Eliza Doolittle: [halting, tempted] ‘Ow do I know what might be in ‘em? I’ve ‘eard o’ girls bein’ drugged by the likes o’ you.
Professor Henry Higgins: [Takes a chocolate and breaks it in half] Pledge of good faith. I’ll take one half…
[puts one half into his mouth and bolts it; then pops the other half into Eliza's mouth]
Professor Henry Higgins: And you take the other. You’ll have boxes of them, barrels of them. You’ll live on them, eh?
Eliza Doolittle: [Eliza chews hesitatingly] I wouldn’t've et it, only I’m too ladylike to take it out o’ me mouth.
Professor Henry Higgins: Think of it, Eliza. Think of chocolates. And taxis…! And gold! And diamonds!
Eliza Doolittle: Ah-ah-ah-ow-ow-oo! I don’t want no gold and no diamonds! I’m a good girl, I am!

Sally is suspicious of nothing and doesn’t consider her acts as being wrong -

Brian: Screw Maximilian!
Sally: I do.
Brian: So do I.
Sally: You two bastards!
Brian: Two? Two? Shouldn’t that be three?

Sally is not the girl your mother would like you to have as a friend.  Eliza would be welcome to the house at any time – two very different characters.

Whilst the core theme running through both musicals is morality, the way in which moral issues are addressed are strikingly different.  My Fair Lady investigates the ethics of social engineering whilst Cabaret concentrates on sexual female in both male and female.  Professor Higgins’ transformation of Eliza into a lady of high society and Sally’s sexual promiscuity are two moral issues that are quite different.  When comparing the two films it is difficult to resist the temptation to decide which of the two characters is the most immoral.  Is it Sally with her sexual exploitations that pale into insignificance when viewed against the background of Nazi violence and anti-Semitism?  Or is it the arrogant Professor who treats Eliza with contempt who transforms into a tragic figure when we (and he) discovers that he loves Eliza and cannot live with just her voice recordings alone –

Professor Henry Higgins: You see, the great secret, Eliza, is not a question of good manners or bad manners, or any particular sort of manners, but having the same manner for all human souls. The question is not whether I treat you rudely, but whether you’ve ever heard me treat anyone else better.
Eliza Doolittle: I don’t care how you treat me. I don’t mind your swearing at me. I shouldn’t mind a black eye; I’ve had one before this. But I won’t be passed over!
Professor Henry Higgins: Well then, get out of my way, for I won’t stop for you. You talk about me as though I were a motor bus.
Eliza Doolittle: So you are a motor bus! All bounce and go, and no consideration for anybody. But I can get along without you. Don’t you think I can’t!
Professor Henry Higgins: I know you can. I told you you could.
[pause]
Professor Henry Higgins: [quietly] You’ve never wondered, I suppose, whether… whether I could get along without you.
Eliza Doolittle: Well, you have my voice on your phonograph. When you feel lonesome without me you can turn it on. It has no feelings to hurt.
Professor Henry Higgins: I… I can’t turn your soul on.
Eliza Doolittle: Ooh, you are a devil. You can twist the heart in a girl the same way some fellows twist her arms to hurt her!

Just as morality expresses itself in the main theme running through both films – the morality of class in My Fair Lady and personal and sexual morals in Cabaret, morality – that is what is right and what is wrong is captured in what makes the productions what they are  -  the music.

In general it can be said that the music and lyrics of Cabaret are more ‘edgy’, more ‘tight’ and more risqué than those of My Fair Lady.  The genre of music is also different.  In My Fair Lady the class issue expresses itself in the songs:  ‘Wouldn’t it be Lovely’ with its references to ‘All I want is a room somewhere,  Far away from the cold night air’ shouts social injustice for homeless people – and those with a yearning for, but without the means to pay for chocolates.  ‘Ladies Ascot Day’ or more properly the Ascot Gavotte is a blatant expose of class division at its best or worst.  ‘Why can’t the English’ should be more correctly named ‘Why can’t the Upper Class English’ and the toe tapping ‘Get me to the Church on time’ should be ‘Get me to the working class Church on time’.

Eliza’s ultimate triumph over Professor Higgins is expressed in ‘I’ve Grown Accustomed to her Face’ where the pompous and arrogant Higgins realises that Eliza’s physical presence cannot be substituted by a recording on his phonograph.  ‘An Ordinary Man’ again addresses the question of what is ‘ordinary’ as well as posing the question of what is exceptional.  The question is still posed by songwriters today – ‘Love of the Common People’ by Paul Young and Pulp’s ‘Common People’.  The question remains unanswered – can only the working class be ‘ordinary’?  And pity poor Freddy who realises that love cuts across class divides when he haunts the road in which Eliza lives as he belts out the lamentable ‘On the Street where You Live’.  Poor Freddy – pity the toff who falls for a lowly flower girl.

The morality of the existence of differences in class are found in the general theme of My Fair Lady and the dialogue between the characters as they wrestle with class divisions is enhanced and supported by the lyrics of the songs.

Similarly the brooding nature of the examination of sexual freedom and morals runs through ‘Cabaret’ and, like ‘My Fair Lady’ the songs and the lyrics reinforce the dilemma of whether sexual licence is a truly moral issue  – whether sleeping around and having same sex partners is right or wrong.

From the very first song, ‘Wellcommen[iv]’ we enter the strange, surreal world of cabaret – ‘do you feel good?’  ‘We bet you do’, ‘Leave your troubles outside’.  It carries on throughout the songs.  ‘So What?’ – how many mothers have had that thrown at them by unruly teenagers.  ‘So What?’ is the prime example of the liberal attitude of the patrons of cabaret and the characters of ‘Cabaret’.  The theme continues:  ‘Don’t tell Mamma’ – why not?  Would Mamma not approve even though Mamma probably got up to the same things herself.  And let’s throw in a little sexual deviance in the form of a threesome – ‘Two Ladies’ – shock horror, some men have sex with two ladies……. I wonder what the Romans would think of that – especially as ‘they like it’.

It’s quite a disappointment to find out that the gift was a ‘pineapple’ – or was it simply a fruit?

Poor Sally, used, abused and walked on by her succession of boyfriends.  Maybe the next one will give her what she wants – security and love:

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky
Maybe this time, he’ll stay
Maybe this time
For the first time
Love won’t hurry away

He will hold me fast
I’ll be home at last
Not a loser anymore
Like the last time
And the time before

Everybody loves a winner
So nobody loved me;
‘Lady Peaceful,’ ‘Lady Happy,’
That’s what I long to be
All the odds are in my favour
Something’s bound to begin
It’s got to happen, happen sometime
Maybe this time I’ll win

I hope she does – or did.  Sadly the ‘only thing bound to begin was the second world war.

“Money is the root of all evil” is probably the most widely misquote of all time.  Taken from the Bible, what the passage actually says is “the LOVE of money is the root of all evil” – cue ‘Money’

[EMCEE]
If you happen
To be rich,
[GIRLS]
…….Ooooh
[EMCEE]
And you feel like a
Night’s enetertainment,
[GIRLS]
…Money
[EMCEE]
You can pay for a
Gay escapade.

Money can buy you love contrary to what the Beatles told us.

There are a few songs from the Broadway production that never made it into the film – the most notable being ‘Married’ that is heard only on the radio in the background during one of the scenes.  Marriage – commitment, loyalty and monogamous binding.  No wonder it is only heard in the background.

In conclusion it can be seen that these two highly successful films have both similarity and differences.  The central theme of morality, a questioning of what is right and what is wrong runs through both productions.  In my opinion this is such a strong feature that it overshadows and overpowers the differences that are apparent between the two productions.  Yes, the two central characters are totally different in innocence and outlook.  But they both struggle with the issue of love and devotion and they are both tragic characters – Eliza by chance and Sally by choice.  The two films are comparable more than they are contrasts.  But perhaps the only certainty about the two works are that they are destined to remain favourites with the cinema-going public and will always be remembered as being classic pieces of film that have and will continue to influence writers, directors and actors.  Sally and Eliza – what gals!

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[i][i] ‘Talentless and Twee?  Not the Audrey I knew’ Frederick Raphael, Daily Telegraph, London, Tue. August 10^th 2010.

[ii] Lloyd George’s 1911 Parliament Act created Life Peers and restricted the Bills that could be rejected by the House of Lords.

[iii] All quotations taken from the Internet Movie Database – www.imbd.com

[iv] All Lyrics from ST Lyrics – www.stlyrics.com

This is Gandalf
Isn’t he a charmer. Look into those eyes. One of God’s most beautiful creatures. Loving, friendly, affectionate. Look at the cute little bell around his neck. Notice how well he looks and how he is obviously well looked after.
Look at those cute little paws. The paws that can turn into murderous pin sharp razors at the flick of a tail. Note the rip in my favourite chair that was caused by little old Gandalf when he was dreaming one day.
Gandalf is no more my cat: He never was.
The story begins in late May of this year. This pitiful white feline turned up in the garden absolutely soaked through. It was raining steadily (and still is) and I made the serious error of making eye contact with him and, as I opened the conservatory door, he ran up the steps and made straight in. He immediately started to make himself at home, stretching out on the carpet and pulling himself along using his claws – the cutlasses could also be adapted to grappling hooks. He was wet through and obviously very hungry.
I am not a cat person. I don’t dislike them but neither am I particularly fond of them. They have their world and I have mine. And as long as they keep to their world the can be assured that I will not interfere with that world. This was how it always was but no longer is. The cat decided to make himself at home. I went to buy some cat food. When I returned it finished off a whole tin of cat food as if it had never eaten before. It then curled up on my favourite chair and settled down to sleep for the rest of the evening and night. In the morning it ate another tin of food and then decided to leave.
When I returned hom in the early afternoon he was sitting on the wall near my front door. It was genuinely glad to see me. I wasn’t particularly glad to see him. I say him because I now know it is a tom but at the time I didn’t know what its gender was. I had a suspicion that it was a female because of the pink collar around its neck. I called it simply “Cat”. Cat ate another tin of food and then settled down to sleep. Outside it was raining hard and I couldn’t simply throw this defenceless animal to the mercy of the weather. It slept and ate for the next week. I came home one day and found it cowering from the rain underneath the bushes in the garden. It had no shelter other than my house. I began to make enquiries as to what one does with a cat that is obviously homeless. “Take a picture and print off some ‘cat found’ posters suggested one friend.
“Excellent idea” I thought and immediately set about discovering how useless it is to try and reason with a cat to co-operate in a photo shoot. They don’t obey! They are pointless! You’d swear this was his house and he was doing me a favour by allowing me in its presence. Eventually I got a picture and printed off some ‘cat found’ posters, laminated them and started to distribute them in local shops, tied them to lamposts and even got one displayed in the local police station. The posters had the picture of the cat, an appeal for its rightful owner to get in touch and my telphone number. I waited for the call.
It came during the evening of the second day that the posters had been distributed. It was from a lady whose friend had telephoned her to inform her that there were pictures of Gandalf (for that was his name) posted everywhere with an appeal to the cat’s owner to telphone my number.
“Do you live locally?” I asked.
“Just around the corner from you” she replied.
“Have you been wondering where he or she has been?” I asked
“It’s a he and I’ve been wondering why he has not been eating his dried cat food” she responded.
“You mean he’s not lost?”
“No – he keeps on doing this to people. He just invited himself in and takes advantage. You are now the fourth house that he visits regularly. Please stop feeding him and just ignore him”.
“I will” I assured her as I caught sight of the cat preening himself on my chair. “But tell me, why has he got a pink collar on if he is a boy?”
“Because of the bell. We needed a big bell to warn birds and other stuff that he is around. The biggest bell we could find was pink. Has he brought you any presents yet?”
“Presents?”
“Yes, dead mice or birds” she explained.
“No” I replied.
“That’s his next move” she explained. “If you refuse him entry he will start bringing you little gifts”. I shuddered.

The cat stared at me as I made my way towards him. “Well Gandalf” I said, “The game is up. Off you go” I opened the back door and put the cat out. It was the first time I had picked him up. He looked at me as if to say ‘what the hell do you think you are doing?’ It went away. This was the third week of June. It was the start of a battle of wills. He has sat on my garage roof in torrential rain. He has greeted me almost every time I got home, he has cut a pathetic sight by scratching at the conservatory door. He has mewed incessantly in my garden but all to no avail.
This week he has tried the bribary. Two dead birds, three disbowelled mice and one vole have all been deposited outside my garden studio door. As I write this he is looking at me – no, staring at me, through the vertical blinds of the sliding doors.
He will not come in!