#50 - Is There A Doctor In The House?
Hello hello,
Greetings from sunny(ish) Los Angeles for The Big 5-0! This newsletter has truly taught me the meaning of commitment. I'm currently waiting for my flight home after a pretty full-on weekend and am determined to get this finished before we depart. I realise it's late but normal service will resume this week and you'll get a letter on Friday. Honest.
Gallifrey One (my reason for being out here) was brilliant and the people who both attend and manage it are magic...I think my writer soul just found it slightly surreal to be confronted with that much positivity. Definitely a novel experience. Though Gally had a similar vibe to the Hugos (which was similarly anxiety-inducing yet glorious), it was effectively my first ever convention. Definitely not a bad way to lose that cherry. As I said at the closing ceremony: damn fine people, damn fine carpets.
THE FIRST FACE THIS FACE SAW
I didn't really get a chance to see any of the rest of Los Angeles because my schedule was quite intense but I did manage to make a couple of forays out of the hotel (which was smack by the airport) and into the streets. So much streets. As far as the eye could see. While there wasn't a whole lot going on that wasn't a construction site, car park or hotel, I made sure I managed to fit in a long awaited pilgrimage to Taco Bell.
If you know anything of Taco Bell, you might be confused as to why it's an establishment that requires any sort of visiting but I was there to indulge in gustatory nostalgia. You see, when I was younger, my (now deceased) paternal grandfather tired of fulfilling certain British Asian stereotypes and ventured to the States to take up the fresh stereotypes that were on offer there. In short, he ended up running a motel. An Econo Lodge in Gainesville, Florida no less. Now and then I'd fly out with my grandparents while they worked out there and while Gainesville didn't have a huge lot to offer Kid Patel, it did let me experience a veritable fast food cornucopia. The king among these was Taco Bell and in the twenty five years since I last visited, I've never forgotten the taste of the 'hot' rated packet sauce on a soggy, dense bean burrito.
Now, in 2020, I duly placed my order and greedily grabbed a few sachets of that sacred sauce. Sitting there in this tiny taco shack on the side of a 4-lane road, I squeezed out some of that fiery goodness and as the bean paste/acid sauce concoction slapped onto my tongue I instantly felt as if my grandfather was with me again. As I get older, I find myself more and more grateful for this sort of muscle memory (memory muscle?) that the senses give. Biting into that burrito was my own tiny adventure in space and time.
By coincidence, my sister sent me a photo of my niece at that exact instant. I can see his face in hers. Maybe that's not true and I just want it to be. That desire to see relative's faces in children is a hidden wish for them to go on living though they’re nearly at the end of their lives or gone already.
KITTY KORNER
The saga of Chill Cat and Thrill Cat has taken a Hitchcockian twist. Mere hours after I sent out my last newsletter, a neighbour knocked on my door to ask if my cats were OK. Chill was napping on top of the cupboard as usual and Pretty had literally just dipped out the window so I answered that they were fine as far as I knew.
The neighbour explained that he'd just seen a dead cat laid out on one of the brick pillars that surround the estate and it had a fluffy tail, much like Pretty's. My stomach dropped. I immediately knew that this was Thrill Cat. The neighbour told me that someone at the bus stop had seen what had happened - Thrill had been hit by a speeding car. Going out to check, I spotted the body. A morbid yet I guess somewhat appropriately funereal pose, lying out in state on that pillar. Kids passed by, excited by the prospect of playing with a kitty only to recoil when they saw the full extent of the damage.
I'm trying to think of a way to put a bit of a humour spin on this but the truth is that I am properly gutted. A bolshy, beautiful creature struck down because someone couldn't be bothered to cut their speed. If there is any silver lining to this, it's that I'm reminded of how incredible vets are. It took a little while to find one that was open on a Sunday so I wouldn't have to keep the body til Monday but they were so quick to say I should bring Thrill in.
Once I got there, they were devastated when they saw even just a peek of the body. I've always found this with vets. They never seem to lose the visible dejection when confronted with a miserable situation. It's been a curious contrast to doctors but maybe that's just my experience.
Another tiny moment I want to share: When I was covering Thrill's body with the sheet, I was visibly miserable and a man who was jogging past stopped to talk to me about it. He was kind about it and seemed similarly gutted. It transpired that this man was the guy who now lived in the council flat where my cats came from. He knew that he'd taken over the flat of a woman who died and told me he felt guilty about that. I told him it wasn't his fault and if he wanted to see something of the woman's legacy, I knew some cats he should meet.
Anyway. There's something in that coincidence. If I figure out what, I'll let you know.
Vin x
If you're new to Patelograms and like what you've read, you can subscribe by clicking here.
If you're an old hand, thanks as ever for taking the time.
Greetings from sunny(ish) Los Angeles for The Big 5-0! This newsletter has truly taught me the meaning of commitment. I'm currently waiting for my flight home after a pretty full-on weekend and am determined to get this finished before we depart. I realise it's late but normal service will resume this week and you'll get a letter on Friday. Honest.
Gallifrey One (my reason for being out here) was brilliant and the people who both attend and manage it are magic...I think my writer soul just found it slightly surreal to be confronted with that much positivity. Definitely a novel experience. Though Gally had a similar vibe to the Hugos (which was similarly anxiety-inducing yet glorious), it was effectively my first ever convention. Definitely not a bad way to lose that cherry. As I said at the closing ceremony: damn fine people, damn fine carpets.
THE FIRST FACE THIS FACE SAW
I didn't really get a chance to see any of the rest of Los Angeles because my schedule was quite intense but I did manage to make a couple of forays out of the hotel (which was smack by the airport) and into the streets. So much streets. As far as the eye could see. While there wasn't a whole lot going on that wasn't a construction site, car park or hotel, I made sure I managed to fit in a long awaited pilgrimage to Taco Bell.
If you know anything of Taco Bell, you might be confused as to why it's an establishment that requires any sort of visiting but I was there to indulge in gustatory nostalgia. You see, when I was younger, my (now deceased) paternal grandfather tired of fulfilling certain British Asian stereotypes and ventured to the States to take up the fresh stereotypes that were on offer there. In short, he ended up running a motel. An Econo Lodge in Gainesville, Florida no less. Now and then I'd fly out with my grandparents while they worked out there and while Gainesville didn't have a huge lot to offer Kid Patel, it did let me experience a veritable fast food cornucopia. The king among these was Taco Bell and in the twenty five years since I last visited, I've never forgotten the taste of the 'hot' rated packet sauce on a soggy, dense bean burrito.
Now, in 2020, I duly placed my order and greedily grabbed a few sachets of that sacred sauce. Sitting there in this tiny taco shack on the side of a 4-lane road, I squeezed out some of that fiery goodness and as the bean paste/acid sauce concoction slapped onto my tongue I instantly felt as if my grandfather was with me again. As I get older, I find myself more and more grateful for this sort of muscle memory (memory muscle?) that the senses give. Biting into that burrito was my own tiny adventure in space and time.
By coincidence, my sister sent me a photo of my niece at that exact instant. I can see his face in hers. Maybe that's not true and I just want it to be. That desire to see relative's faces in children is a hidden wish for them to go on living though they’re nearly at the end of their lives or gone already.
KITTY KORNER
The saga of Chill Cat and Thrill Cat has taken a Hitchcockian twist. Mere hours after I sent out my last newsletter, a neighbour knocked on my door to ask if my cats were OK. Chill was napping on top of the cupboard as usual and Pretty had literally just dipped out the window so I answered that they were fine as far as I knew.
The neighbour explained that he'd just seen a dead cat laid out on one of the brick pillars that surround the estate and it had a fluffy tail, much like Pretty's. My stomach dropped. I immediately knew that this was Thrill Cat. The neighbour told me that someone at the bus stop had seen what had happened - Thrill had been hit by a speeding car. Going out to check, I spotted the body. A morbid yet I guess somewhat appropriately funereal pose, lying out in state on that pillar. Kids passed by, excited by the prospect of playing with a kitty only to recoil when they saw the full extent of the damage.
I'm trying to think of a way to put a bit of a humour spin on this but the truth is that I am properly gutted. A bolshy, beautiful creature struck down because someone couldn't be bothered to cut their speed. If there is any silver lining to this, it's that I'm reminded of how incredible vets are. It took a little while to find one that was open on a Sunday so I wouldn't have to keep the body til Monday but they were so quick to say I should bring Thrill in.
Once I got there, they were devastated when they saw even just a peek of the body. I've always found this with vets. They never seem to lose the visible dejection when confronted with a miserable situation. It's been a curious contrast to doctors but maybe that's just my experience.
Another tiny moment I want to share: When I was covering Thrill's body with the sheet, I was visibly miserable and a man who was jogging past stopped to talk to me about it. He was kind about it and seemed similarly gutted. It transpired that this man was the guy who now lived in the council flat where my cats came from. He knew that he'd taken over the flat of a woman who died and told me he felt guilty about that. I told him it wasn't his fault and if he wanted to see something of the woman's legacy, I knew some cats he should meet.
Anyway. There's something in that coincidence. If I figure out what, I'll let you know.
Vin x
If you're new to Patelograms and like what you've read, you can subscribe by clicking here.
If you're an old hand, thanks as ever for taking the time.
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