Monday, August 13, 2012

A Match for Sister Maggy - Reprise

I have to admit that I didn't get a chance to re-read Nurse in Holland, Amazon in an Apron OR A Match for Sister Maggy this week.  I still have one more set of wedding guests to trundle off to the airport (tomorrow), so I've been a bit, well, busy.  I did, however, re-read Betty Keira's excellent review, so here's my (admittedly limited) thoughts:

  • In spite of three (3) different titles, I still have a hard time remembering which one this one is. Had it been named Maggie and the Creepy Belgium Family,  I would have smiled lazily and said, "Ah yes, the creepy Belgiums, I am familiar with that one."
  • The Belgiums. Let's talk about them.  I felt like Betty was starting to go a little gothic there - Mary Stewart-ish. Betty Keira wondered (to me) if The Great Betty had had a similar nursing experience.  We both agreed that there felt like there might have been some kind of back story.
  • Betty Keira mentions that they ate 'twaalf'.  I tried to look it up - it looks to me like 'twaalf' means 12.  Either Betty Keira made a mistake (possible), Betty Neels made a mistake (also possible), the Dutch like to eat numbers (they do eat chocolate letters...) or it was a restaurant and they ordered '#12'.  I'm throwing this one out there for a little help. Anyone??
-Betty Debbie

But, Betty Keira, this is not the correct book cover! We're reviewing A Match for Sister Maggy--not Nurse in Holland or (dons reading glasses) Amazon in an Apron. Ah, gentle reader, this is because this book was poorly named twice before stumbling onto the genius of the final.

Doctor Paul van Beijen Doelsma (36) didn't intend be called fat, elderly, balding and heavily-accented so early in the morning but when Sister Maggy MacFergus (24--Junoesque doesn't begin to cover it) rushes pell-mell into the hospital lobby (Ala a certain impertinent warrior princess) that's just what happens. Naturally, she didn't know who that gorgeous giant was, leaning against the porter's lodge and listening lazily to her hurried explanations and complaints ('Nine o'clock for a lecture! The man ought to be shot!'), but when she scoots into the back of the lecture hall it's a wonder that the sound of her stomach dropping to her toes isn't heard around the world. If they shot him for lecturing so early then he makes a mighty handsome corpse.
Paul gives an excellent lecture, fields a few questions from the earnest, eager and ugly and then spies Sister Maggy in whispered conference with a fellow nurse in the last row. The 'other' nurse asks a question--a very intelligent and well-reasoned question--and Paul knows that it was Maggy that really asked it. He sends waves of white-hot passionate medical flirtation to the back of the hall. Many staff nurses, caught in the wake of his decisive fervor, lost their sanity that day...
After decimating hapless nurses, he makes an amendment to his schedule and decides to head on up to the Women's Medical Ward. He serves up more uncrushable ardor--thinly disguised by a witty game of 'Is your ward ready to receive me?'--and she is scrambling to catch up.
After a successful round, his parthian shot is to corner her in her office and kiss the starch out of her apron. 'I want you to remember me.' (Are you purring yet?) File a sexual harassment suit? Don't be ridiculous. He's hot and it's the 60s. She should be thanking her lucky stars.
Non Sequiter: In the ward we meet a horrible patient, Madame Riveau, and her menfolk who are Belgian. Belgian. In the land of Neels, death and mayhem are the handmaidens of all things Belgian.
The next Doelsma to enter the picture is Mevrouw Doelsma--Paul's mother and recent coronary sufferer. Though Paul is not there, Maggy lays some important long-term groundwork for her eventual happiness--impressing her future mother-in-law with important skills such as life-saving. When Paul does show up, Maggy the Shy Giantess keeps swapping out her off-duty--not so she can see him (no, no, that would be too easy!) but to avoid him. He counters her oblique overtures with the well-trod (but always welcome) gesture of sending her 6 dozen roses and referencing Robbie Burns.
But then he asks her to go away with him to Holland. Rockets are firing in her brain. Her heart takes flight. Rainbows and buttercups rain from the sky! Four-leaf clovers are popping up all over...(Snap, snap.) He asks her to go and nurse his mother for a few weeks. (oh.) Hm. That's not a proposition. Her pride is stung enough to refuse.
When he asks again, he gently explains how concerned he is for his ailing mother--which is a little rat-finky of him if you think about it...using his mother to advance his romantic ambitions. But Maggy consents and in the mean time has her dawning realization.
Paul loves his mother and Maggy loves him and I'm not sure why the roses have to be given away at this point or tears indulged in but perhaps Maggy realizes that she's just a cog in his machine. He'll do whatever it takes to get Mevrouw back on her feet--even sweet-talking an Amazon in an Apron. (See what I just did there?) Maybe this is what it felt like to be press-ganged by the British Navy...
Non Sequiter: Madame Riveau, meanwhile, has escaped from the hospital and has tooth pain.
In Holland Maggy meets Stien who is cute and small and everything the large, strong Maggy is not.
Editorial Note: As a reader, we wonder, 'Has Paul cleared his decks for action or is there a bilge rat running amok among the ammunition?' (Oh, you weren't?) We see Stien twice more--once on horseback going for an early morning ride with Paul and another time enjoying a late-night drink in the kitchens. Poor Maggy, her dressing gown bunched up anyhow, peers around the door with a poker and loses her dignity. I want to smack Paul around a little as it never occurs to him that running around with a girl small enough for Maggy to bench-press might throw a wrench in the wheel. Also, she lives in Utrecht (an important and muddying detail).
Maggy is pretty much ignored for a while as she nurses Paul's mother so she amuses taking his massive horse out for vigorous gallops. When Paul discovers it he erupts with the timeliness and precision of Old Faithful. Maggy, treating him tolerantly--like a fussy little boy who isn't getting his way--only enrages him further. Off he goes to tattle to his mother! Oh dear, says the old woman, don't be mad at Maggy. I told her she should drive the Daimler...What!!! She's driving his luxury cars too?
His apology for blowing his top leaves something to be desired and another row is kicked up.
But they aren't going to be that couple--the ones bickering up the aisle to the alter--so a cease-fire is proposed.
Him: Do you like me? I like you. Let's be friends.
That's good enough to shake on.
We remove to Leiden while Mevrouw gets some medical tests...
Maggy and Paul have done more hanging out (riding together, driving in the car, etc.) in Friesland (did I not mention that his ancestral home is in the land of large women and over-sized cows?) but upon his arrival in Leiden, he takes her on The Home Tour of Smoldering Passions. (Because you don't let people you don't care a fig about to peek into your attic nurseries.) But he doesn't let her see his room (fearing that just seeing where he sleeps will send her into a frenzy) or The Master Suite. See, it's closed up because he's just a bachelor and, the way, there's a family tradition about not letting the future Mrs. Doelsma see it before the big night.
He also takes her on a tour of the hospital (giving her a little kiss in the children's ward). But as he's still haring off to Utrecht at the drop of a hat and Stien lives there and Mevrouw Doelsma grouches that in Utrecht is 'the love of his life'..., Maggy throttles any growing expectations in their pram.
While doing some shopping, she comes upon the mysterious Madame Riveau (Who prefers to export her Belgian evil to distant lands like England and Holland.). They agree to meet again the next day for reasons totally unrelated to rational thought. But when Maggy does meet her, Madame is deeply sick and gets her to take her home to the fetid swamp she lives in. Madame promptly falls asleep and Maggy (doing her nurse-ly due diligence) can't leave her in this condition without any help. (Belgian though she be.)
Maggy, wearing a brand new dress, rolls up her sleeves and begins to clean. Boiling soapy water, hauling around furniture--the lot. And when the Riveau menfolk appear she orders them about and sends for a doctor.
Hey. I know a doctor.
Paul shows up in a rage--barely cloaking his desperate concern (She missed her train!) and when he tells her that she's wearing a pretty dress (bunchy and spattered as it now is) she is hurt. Are you being beastly? Genuinely surprised, he answers honestly. No--you would look--nice-- in a potato sack.
Back in Friesland he invites her to dinner.
Her: Oh but I don't have a dress. Him: They have a Big and Tall store here.
Important points about their date:
  • He underlines that this is not a farewell, thanks for nursing my mother back to health date.
  • He does this by pulling into a lay-by...where nobody gets kissed.
  • He tries to get information out of her about where she lives. She gently snubs him which feels wonderful after all those other times Neels heroines have been the snub-ee instead of the snub-er.
  • He tells her, at the end of the date, that he must have taken every other girl that he ever knew to that restaurant at one time or another.
  • He says, "Hey remember that time you came down with a poker and felt horribly awkward? Let's reminisce about that. Oh, and Stien would make a decorative wife."
He kisses her and she retaliates by standing him up on their morning ride.
She is provided a way to leave Holland by her hospital matron who wonders (in a letter) when Maggy will be back as there is a shortage of nurses.
She takes off to the airport the next day (while Paul's airplane from Germany is landing--yes, he had to go to Deutschland for two days and he rushes back when he finds out she's leaving). By skipping to the head of the queue (rather sneakily) she is able to avoid him.
Paul, at his wit's end, does the only thing a sensible man could do in a similar situation:
  • Take the family engagement ring and pearls out of the wall safe.
  • Notify Customs that they will be leaving the country.
  • Contacts his relative who can expedite a Special License with The Archbishop.
  • Murder his insane wife that he's kept walled up behind the doors of The Master Suite.
Oh, and then he wangles Maggy's address out of her hospital matron's hands. Kissing in Scotland and a wedding while they're at it--no need to travel to a remote cottage for implied conjugal relations.
The End
P.S. But I'm still worried about how matron will solve her nurse shortage.

Rating: What a pity that I remembered the end differently (My memory played tricks on me and I had patched the end of the not great Pineapple Girl onto it) because it was really rather lovely. I don't know how I feel about the Scots accent--it all seems a little as though La Neels had upended her purse, shaken out all the Scots vernacular and pasted them into dialog. Still, Maggy is a darling and has a formidable backbone so I don't mind the 'ach's and 'wee's and 'dinna's too terribly. Her eyebrows are practically an auxillary character of their own and I wish The Great Betty had not been so liberal with her 'large hands' and 'thick, glowering eyebrows'. A little delicacy, please. Paul is a little more difficult to understand (he doesn't off-load Stein soon enough to indicate a man decisively in love) but I like to think he's playing a long game--instant dawning realization and all else following. To sum up: Though I had remembered this poorly, it has earned a boeuf en croute--just think what it would have earned if I'd not had to take notes!

Food: Mevrouw Doelsma barfs up lobster. They eat boterkoek, twaalf, Rolpens met Rodekool (did you say 'roadkill'? It's actually spiced and pickled minced beef and tripe and apples and red cabbage. Gah.), caneton a' la Rouennaise (a 'famous' duckling dish).

Fashion: Paul has the 'loveliest waistcoat'. Maggy sports her blue uniform, a sweater and slacks to go riding in, a raincoat and scarf tied under her chin, a navy blue and white checked tricot dress, her utterly ruined vivid coral pink jersey, and a what is supposed to be a lovely cream guipure lace knee-skimming gown to go dancing in (though she is a strapping lass and I'm worried that that's rather a lot of lace to be looking at).


  1. Ok, not looking at the book and making a wild guess, could the Dutch refer to lunch as "twaalf" (twelve) because it happens at twelve? The Brits sometimes refer to the tea/snacks they have at eleven as "elevenses",
    so I'm just pulling this out of my hat.

    B von S

  2. I went back and looked at my notes but I, as I suspected, I only put page numbers on the bits that I wanted to go back and quote verbatim like that bit about "Rolpens met Rodekool"--page 172 in my new cover copy.

    Twaalf is mentioned just before that in my notes so if someone wants to work backwards... hahaha

  3. I deeply love Maggy, who is really distinctive in the specific details her creator provides. But Paul seems as generic as a hero can be; in the context of the Neels oeuvre, he has no distinguishing features for me.

    The Scots accent is a bit bizarre, and the Riveau tableau is far beyond bizarre. She has rotted teeth and is too weak-willed to get them fixed? And her husband and son are too cheap or lazy to get her the help she needs? This is simply not sufficient explanation for all that foreshadowing of disaster. I keep waiting to learn that she's a kidnapped Greek princess, and the menfolk are Symbionese Liberation Army symphatizers who've gotten her hooked on heroin or something. But no. Maybe "bad teeth" was nursing-code for "intestinal hemorrhage due to latex-allergy and explosions of six condoms filled with cocaine patient was forced to swallow by sadistic-drug-lord-pimp posing as husband" the way "You've got anemia and need to get some rest," secretly meant, "This leukemia will kill you in a matter of weeks." It's got to be something better than "lousy housekeeper."

  4. twaalf in the book:
    She paid for it quickly before her practical mind told her that she was being extravagant, and left the shop happily. She lunched at the Formosa Café, because the doctor had told her to do so, and ate her way through a twaalf, studying her map.

    Did some research and this is what I found out:

    1. The Great Betty must have meant a twaalfuurtje, "little twelvehour".
    2. Betty von Susie's wild guess is correct. The word twaalfuurtje is used for lunch / middageten / middagmaaltijd. However, in this case it is most likely
    3. a lunch arrangement.
    I found a definition of sorts and translated it, sort of.
    "The twaalfuurtje is one of the most classic lunch dishes in Dutch eetcafés (I looked up eetcafé = a simple place where you can eat, sort of a middle thing between a restaurant and a pub). Bread with a kroket and /or soup and salad is ideal too to be served on a terrace. The combination varies from place to place, but the basis is the same."
    I have read some menus too. Often found bread with ham, bread with cheese, sometimes roastbeef too, a kroket or no kroket. Sometimes an uitsmijter plus kroket. Soup or no soup. There were many variations. Some a little more upscale. Sometimes coffee or tea come with the meal. (Do they serve them after the meal?)
    1. Some of these people had never seen a twaalfuurtje before.
    2. At this place you can choose ham or cheese.
    3. This looks a little more fancy.

    1. twaalfuurtje , "little twelvehour" meaning little twelve o'clock

  5. Caneton a' la Rouennaise = roasted and pressed duck in a reduction of cognac, red wine, and jus. Why is that in the Army mess-hall cookbooks? I'm not thinking it would hold well in a steam table.....

    1. I'm cracking up about the Caneton a' la Rouennaise being in an army mess-hall cookbook. I wonder how excited soldiers are to see something like that on the menu?

    2. Having spent many years in Army mess halls -- uh, not at all. I only saw duck on the menu once. In Sarajevo (that would be Bosnia) during NATO operations, in the French mess hall. We had an American mess hall, and the Irish, Brits, Dutch (who thought it hilarious when Americans called them "NEE-der-lend-ers"), and Norwegians generally ate with us. Only the Belgians ate with the French on a regular basis.

      Belgians. Hmmm.

      The Belgians would regularly irritate the Dutch by insisting their common language was Flemish. The Dutch characterized Flemish was a low-class dirty rotten dialect of their fine Dutch language.

      May I add that the Belgians and French also used to wander about Sarajevo in Bermuda shorts and pith helmets. The Dutch wore battle fatigues and Kevlar like we did.

      I think Betty was on to something with her characterization of All Things Belgian.

    3. Army Betty I love to hear stories like this. Things that are normal to us that crack other nationalities up, and vice versa. Keep the tales coming!

      B von S

      P.S. What do the Dutch prefer to be called?

    4. Usually "Sir".

      In NATO circles, "Niederlanders". (there should be an umlaut over the "a", but I can't find my umlaut key). "Dutch" sounds too close to "Deutsch" (German) for their taste, they do NOT want to be confused with Germans. They particularly hate being confused with Belgians, particularly Flemish-speaking Belgians. They Dutch for some reason think American pronunciation is hilarious. The Brits refuse to say "Niederlanders", they say "Dutch"; the Irish always say "Niederlanders" just to irritate the Brits. Irish pronunciation does not cause Dutch laughter for reasons I do not understand.

      I do not know if this translates to civilian life....

    5. Fat fingers....

      "The Dutch" , not "They Dutch".

      Where is my grammar? The Great Betty would be appalled.

    6. Texans, well, all Southerners, really, go berserk whenever we hear the British refer to Americans as "Yanks" or "Yankees". We all have our little quirks. I was raised in OK but moved to TX. My OK relatives say I sound like a Texan, and my TX friends say I sound like an Okie. I try for the no-accent Midwest sound but usually fail. What state are you from originally, Army Betty? Military brat? Born overseas? I am imagining an exciting life for you (much more so than my own) when did you discover Betty?

      B von S

      P.S. Read "The Undutchables" if you get a chance - hilarious send up of everyday life in Holland/ Netherlands/Niederlands, take your pick....

    7. Betty A. clapping her hands with glee like a small child because this calls for another session of

      Speak-Along with Betty A.

      Nederlanders, "NA-der-lun-ders" = Dutch for "the Dutch".
      Maybe the Irish pronunciation (the "r" rolled with the tongue, I presume?) sounds more like one of the Dutch pronunciations of the word?
      I am not surprised they thought it funny to be called "NEE-der-lend-ers", or perhaps I am, because Niederländer (no "s" at the end), pronounced "NEE-der-lend-er", is the German word for Nederlanders. So maybe that’s why the Dutch thought it funny?
      Hear Nederlanders pronounced by a native speaker.

    8. That sound like it should be someone who cleans Ralph Nader or things that belong to him.

    9. I always liked Ralphie. I refer to some of the guys I work with as "Corvair" because they are unsafe at any speed.

      B von S

    10. Thank you Betty A! It is always good to know why our NATO brethren are snickering at us!

    11. B von S: Sorry for the slow response, I didn't realize you were asking about the likes of me at first.

      I grew up on Marine bases, claim New Mexico as home because my dad retired there and thats' where I went to high school I then served 21 years active duty before retiring from the Army. I'm currently a defense contractor living within walking distance of the Pentagon, in a neighborhood popular with European exchange officers, which is how I have British and Dutch Army pals at present. I discovered Betty in Bosnia, the USO tent had a huge supply of Bettys -- how they got there, I'll never know. I didn't discover this blog until very recently, when my Dutch Army neighbor started borrowing my Bettys and asking questions about her that I couldn't answer.

      Probably way more than you wanted to know.....

    12. Like I said, a life way more exciting than mine. I also have a million Betty questions that will never be answered. I would like to know about her husbands reunion with his family (who thought he had been KIA during the war), it must have been an amazing moment to witness.

      B von S

    13. British and Dutch Army pals and your Dutch Army neighbor borrowing your Bettys - this is so cool.

    14. This comment has been removed by the author.

    15. Army Betty, you discovered Betty in Bosnia. Did you read A Secret Infatuation yet?

  6. Twaalfuurtje sounds like "furtive twelve", a hurried little lunch you eat quickly while no one is looking, but the ones Betty A pictured seem pretty substantial. Why do I always become hungry and start craving a pot of tea when I'm on this blog? It's 100 degrees outside for Pete's sake.

    B von A

    1. My mom used to say when we were growing up that tea (hot not cold, mind you) was good for you when it was hot outside, meaning that you felt cooler afterwards. Not being much of a tea drinker myself, I have never tested that theory. Hey, Betty von Susie, wanna give it a try?

    2. My mom believed that too and spread the virus to me. My kids don't buy it. But I could drink hot tea in a volcano.

    3. I don't think there are any British volcanoes. Maybe a few extinct ones here and there in Scotland. But, what an awesome slogan that would be for their tourism board...Come see us! Drink hot tea in a volcano! I like it, it's catchy.

      It would be a little hard to relax and enjoy your scones though. Did anyone hear that? Was that a rumble? Do I hear rumbling?

      B von S

    4. So maybe we give up on the British tourism board and shop this idea in India, where they have tea and volcanoes.
      The only volcano on the mainland stopped rumbling about 65 million years ago. So, here's the pitch. Get some Indian Donald Trump to build a cricket or field hockey stadium in the volcano and we get the tea and scone concessions!

      I vote for field hockey, I was a great at that in catholic school!

    5. We do have some volcanoes here in Washington State.(Mt St Helens, anyone?)

      I've never played field hockey, but I have watched Chak De! India, so I'm slightly familiar with it. I'll throw my vote with Betty Mary.

  7. I rather enjoy this one. I mean I gave it 5 stars on Goodreads so I must have been in a Betty Fervor when I rated it after my re-read. Something about Paul Doelsma does it for me except during the lecture when he's eyeballing all the nurses:

    "...although his keen eye detected one or two really plain girls; he sighed- for the plain ones always asked questions."

    Then when the plain girls ask the questions, he thinks about how they weren't even intelligent questions but he's a "kind" man who answers them anyway. I know I didn't feel as strongly when I first read this, lo those many years ago, but today I'm just bugged.

    Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Excellent review as always.

    1. About the plain girls and asking questions - read that part last night and couldn't believe my eyes! I felt greatly irritated. With all those plain girls in Neelsdom - I am surprised.

  8. This may be my number 2 book. I really liked it. At first I got offended by these remarks It wasn't until she got inside that she realized it was that enemy of her Calvinist forbears". But then goes on to get some pre-marriage counseling from my BFF the BVM. She caught the gentle eye of Mary posed in the niche. "I shouldn't be here but there's no harm in telling ye." She studied the calm sweet face. "I should have liked fine to be his wife and raised his bairns." She blew her nose, powdered it and smiled at the little statue. And Mary smiled back or so it seemed, so that Maggie left the church quite comforted.

    Lots more to like about this one. I liked the accent. Maybe it's not quite on, but to do it right would sound even faker. I recently helped a Scottish Episcopal priest at my new job check in and he'd just come doon from Canada to Michigan. To which I remarked that I thought the dunes were those big sandy things by the Lake.
    I liked Maggie and Paul, too. Maybe I just like crabby, I did marry Prof V de P, after all. he he he

  9. We have a Betty in Belgium, I often see her on the "globe thingy" aka Conquering the World widget, in fact I have just seen her there. Betty in Belgium, if you have read A Match for Sister Maggy, what did you think was wrong with Madame Riveau and her son & husband? When I read the book for the first time I thought they were spies and Madame was the courier with microfilms neatly hidden inside her teeth, capped by fillings. (Where is last nights comment where I mentioned this? Did I comment on the wrong page or did Blogger eat another of my comments?)

  10. Rolpens – "industrial" recipe: ground pork and beef, bouillon, egg white, pepper, salt, cloves. The mixture is filled into sacks, handsewn from the paunch/rumen part of the cow’s stomach and cooked in a kettle for a couple of hours. Then the rolpens are stored in vinegar and water for a week.

    A recipe from a 1934 Dutch huishoudschool kookboek (household school cookbook) calls for 1.1/2 kg beef, 1.1/2 kg pork, 1/2 kg fresh fat bacon, 40 g salt, nutmeg, pepper, allspice. Vinegar.

    To prepare the meal the rolpens is cut into slices and fried, traditionally with an apple.

    You don’t taste the casing when the slices are fried. – All in all this doesn’t sound so bad , does it? Only consider: the casing used for sausages comes from a part further down in the food tract. Just sayin’.

    1. Dutch haggis?

      B von S

    2. There is no meat in haggis but heart, liver and lungs. Plus oatmeal, spices... They put in part of the awful, er, offal. (Ok. Bad pun. But I could not resist.)
      From Wikipedia: The first known written recipe for a dish of the name (as 'hagese'), made with offal and herbs, is in the verse cookbook Liber Cure Cocorum dating from around 1430 in Lancashire, North West England.

      For hagese'.
      Þe hert of schepe, þe nere þou take,
      Þo bowel noght þou shalle forsake,
      On þe turbilen made, and boyled wele,
      Hacke alle togeder with gode persole,


    3. The phrase "fell, red, smeddum" comes to mind.

      B von S

    4. Oh my. Reminded me of the time I recited the prologue to Canterbury Tales in old English in English class.

      "Hacke alle togeder"!!! LOL!

    5. Oops. I should say it was Middle English.

    6. Betty von Susie, thank you for mentioning fell, red smeddum, haha!

  11. Guess who made a completey different type of rolpens in one of the episodes of his cooking show on tv. Graham Kerr, The Galloping Gourmet.

    I hope they're what you want.' 'Bound to be,' he sounded comfortably certain about it. 'What are we going to eat, or is it a secret?' She told him. 'Well, Gurkas Norge for starters—you know, the Galloping Gourmet...' 'I don't know, but I daresay I'll catch up with.' (Uncertain Summer)

    There is a picture of Graham Kerr in Betty Keira’s post Betty and the Real World, July 22, 2010.

    Here is his recipe (no pickling involved) for: Rolpens Met Hatebliksem.

  12. Interesting discussion, everyone. I always enjoy hearing about linguistics. Unfortunately, Betty A, I can't get that audio link to work. Oh well.

    1. Betty Lulu, perhaps you need to turn up the volume on your computer. Does the link not open?
      There will be a small graphic at the top of your screen. Which is pretty stupid because you cannot control the volume by clicking onto the little loudspeaker - which is why I thought that you may have to turn up the volume of your computer. You know you can "play" the recording by clicking onto the little triangular arrow on the left or you move your cursor onto the graphic, right mouse click, and click onto one of the options.

    2. Negative. My computer scanned it, and then I opened the file, but it couldn't play on my default player (Movie Maker). This is actually my husband's computer, as mine died. He has some odd settings. I'll search around for other clips.

    3. Do you use Firefox? Should work automatically with that. (I think.) Or, ask your husband? There is a Wikipedia Media help page:

      You poor thing! I hope you get a new computer/laptop as soon as possible.

  13. My absolute favorite part is in the end when, while making arrangements to head to the UK, Paul tells his housekeeper to ready the Master Bedroom. Woo hoo hoo! :D

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