Well, we left off at Play Day (see prior blog). I promised a trip to the library (did). While there I happened upon a book Conspiracies At Sea:Titanic and Lusitania. I did an Instagram of the cover and told a brief story. I met the author of a conspiracy theory Titanic book by the name of Palmer Valentine while I was in London. He was an interesting man who explained my rather boisterous laugh – he also was an actor and voice coach. Now this is the truth and I always tell the truth. He told me that he owned an island in the Mediterranean. Well, he didn’t apparently because I later asked a mutual acquittance.
Me: Does Palmer own an island in the Mediterranean?
He: NO! He lives on one, near Malta but he does not own one.
Me: OMG. Men will say anything to get a woman to go to bed with them.
He: Did he succeed?
Me: Of course not! But he did say that I was a great author and that could have done the trick.
He: Did it?
Me: No. And I never heard from him again.
Well, we all know why I never heard from him again. The Forward to his book thanks a woman who does all of his research and typing for him – clearly the wife. But Marcus and I had the following conversation.
Me: Yes, he said he owned an island.
Marcus: Oh, Alexis you would never be happy – two palm trees and four slaves on an island.
Me: You make a very good point. I would never be happy under such conditions.
So I surveyed the library book, the part about the Titanic anyway. I did read Palmer’s book, sped read it as I obtained it at the British Library. Would I buy a book and enrich the coffers of a man who lied to me? I do not think so. I do have my principles. His principal theory was the Titanic/Olympic switch which is too boring to get into here. Mr. Layton in 18 pages utterly destroys this theory with discernible facts. Apparently, not only did Palmer lie about the island; but he also lied about the Titanic. Such a cad! I am so glad I did not go to bed with him. Well, maybe the wife did the research but that does not let him off the hook. I seem to be a one woman crusade against attempted philandering men. (see blog of August 5, 2017 which includes picture of me in the bath tub).
I have totally digressed. After returning from the library (with a short stop at Social Corner) I got home and began watching an interesting television drama called Moment of Truth. All of a sudden I got a terrible headache and lost the feeling on the right side of my body. Needless to say I was terrified. For many reasons I was convinced I was having a post traumatic stress episode and attempted to reach out to others to talk me down (sort of). I was largely unsuccessful (where are people when you really need them?). So my instinct for self preservation kicked in and I called 911 (after getting the number from Lynne’s husband). The paramedics were wonderful! They got in the downstairs door and I was able to crawl to the door of my apartment and let them in. Off I went to the Emergency Room of St. Paul’s Hospital where I sat around forever but did get, in the end, a good screening. I got a CAT scan and you all will be relieved to know that I do have a brain. I became a pin cushion with blood drawn and an IV. Then they decided at 2:30 in the morning that I could go home. How nice! Ever try and catch a cab from there at 2:30 on a Saturday morning. Not bloody likely! I did have a bit of a hissy fit, to no avail. I was rescued by a wonderful woman called Mona – my goodness did we laugh!
Me: I am not stubborn
She: Oh, yeah! And I am thin,
Me: You are making me laugh! Can I blog this?
She: Sure – you can say that I am thin and short and have blonde hair.
So she almost throws herself in front of a cab but it does stop and let me in and I am taken home. The Doc gave me a diagnosis of Transient Ischemic Attack, which is not good news AT ALL. I was so depressed that I cried all day yesterday. I cried with Vicky at Suki’s and then at my favorite Japanese restaurant where I went to get soothing Ramen. But even there this happened.
Waiter: You make me laugh!
Me: That is so sweet as I am so depressed!
But then I went home. Honest to God there was another false fire alarm in this apartment building. How do they manage it? Whenever I am having people to dinner there is a false alarm (it seems). But this time I am smart and did not walk down seventeen flights of stairs (see blog of January 12, 2018) That night one man, a tenant in the other building, pointed something out during the last inadequately handled false alarm. .
He: Just remember this. The building is concrete and then there is dry wall.
Me: I got it! But now you tell me and what are you doing outside then?
He: I had nothing better to do.
Me: You make me laugh.
The doctors scared me to death and told me that I must immediately call the Rapid Access Stroke Clinic. So I did at nine o’clock this morning, at the earliest moment possible. There is a recording saying that no one is answering the phone. It is now 14:10 (military time). No return call and I called back once. Honest to goodness. I make none of this up. Rapid Access and no one answers the phone. St. Paul’s Hospital has no systems. You release a seventy-four year old woman to the streets at 2 in the morning, scare her to (almost) death and then not answer the phone for five hours. Huh? So I had a great morning, emailing, talking to friend Jenn W. and now writing this blog. In the midst of my depression I decided not to blog any more. I lied.
The photograph is the cover of the book that debunks Palmer Valentine. I tell people not to mess with me. When will they ever learn?