Getting older and still feeling hip
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The British Board of Film Classification has been sent my X-rays and is due to reveal whether they are indeed mild.... or scary.
Got my hip X-ray result - "mild arthritis changes". End of.
That appears to be it, then. I have my card to contact the physiotherapy service so I'll get in touch and see what they can do for mild arthritis.
If it remains no more than "mild", I suppose that's okay. But then there's mild and Mild. One is not a problem as in the film classification that warned of "mild peril" in Finding Nemo. You can't be deterred by mild peril, surely. If it was "very strong" peril, you might think twice. Anyway, it seems that no one really knew what mild peril meant so the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) tends to use "scary moments" now.
In fact, Finding Nemo has "mild threat" according to the BBFC. (KLAXON) SPOILER ALERT! This is described as: "...meeting a shark with lots of sharp teeth, encountering an angler fish who tries to eat a character, and getting lost in a swarm of jellyfish. One fish also finds himself in danger when he tries to escape from a rotating fan and from a large trawler fishing net.
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"There is very mild bad language ('butt'). There is also one implied, but unspoken, use of 'sh*t' when a fish in an aquarium says that (he and the other fish) are 'swimming in our own...' and another fish tells him to 'Shhhh'.
"There is also a sad scene near the beginning of the film when one character realises that all of his young family have been taken away by a shark."
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So that's most of the plot, then.
The current blockbuster is Avengers Endgame, designated 12A, which offers the following additional detail: "There is regular moderate fantasy violence, including occasional bloody detail.
"There is mild threat, mild rude humour and mild bad language including (and I apologise to those of a sensitive nature for implying the following naughty words) 'p*ss', 'son of a b*tch', 'c**p'... ''d*ckh**d' and 'sh*t', as well as milder terms such as 'butt', 'Jesus', 'damn', 'frickin', 'God', 'hell' and 'screw'."
Hardly need to see the film, now. And it looks as if I shall need a piece of popcorn in each ear to avoid the bad language.
So should my X-ray result have tried for something more specific than "mild"? On the advice of the BBFC: "Scary arthritis changes" or "regular, moderate arthritis changes."
"Mild bad language when Lynne attempts to turn over in bed (see above)."
Lynne's Hip, certificate 60+
I was thrilled to see a lovely letter, written to the newspaper, from someone who enjoys reading this column. The letter ended: "I hope her husband appreciates what a treasure he has in that woman!"
Here was an opportunity not to be missed. I waved the letters' page under my husband's nose. He was cooking supper at the time.
"There," I said. "Look at this. What do you think of that?"
He read it and, before I could take it away and laminate it, he asked to see it again, just to check he was reading it right.
I could see he was struggling to assimilate this new idea of his wife being a treasure. I also knew - because we write pantomimes together - that he was thinking of the time-honoured gag about buried treasure.
"I don't know what to say," he eventually responded, putting the ironing board away after an afternoon spent ironing his shirts.
"Well, do you appreciate what a treasure I am?"
"Yes, I suppose so," he said, still bemused.
"Then make me a cup of tea!" I said, adding, belatedly, "please".
A cousin of mine once related the tale of a three-day silence she maintained with her husband. I don't know what he'd done but it was undoubtedly something dreadful. Maybe she was all dressed up for a special occasion and asked him how she looked and he said "Fine" without even looking.
Anyway, she wasn't speaking to him... until after three uncomfortable days he asked if she would like a cup of tea and because she had been brought up always to be polite, she shook her head and then added, because she could not be ill-mannered: "Thank you."
And thus her vow of silence was broken. A cup of tea is the answer to most things.
Over the years I have been writing this column - starting right back in 1985 when, as the mother of a four-year-old and a two-year-old, I was the paper's "Mum on Monday" most people have been more concerned about my husband than about me.
Many people have asked: "Does your husband mind you writing about him like that?" ? like what? (See me, Lynne. ED)
It's probably now too late for my husband to protest but if I came home and found him marching up and down the sitting room with a placard that read: "Free the Monday Feeling One", I might have to review the situation.
Maybe, after all, he is the treasure that should be properly appreciated... maybe.