You know me; can’t resist thinking about the searing issues of the day. And today I’ve been mulling over what makes certain people dress the way they do (such a deep thinker). Or more precisely what compels someone in the public eye to go to the trouble to create a style which is highly distinctive and at the same time completely frigging weird. Continue reading
It was sad to hear about the deaths of two people this week. Firstly the quite beautiful Natasha Richardson who died at just 45 after a blow to her head in a seemingly innocuous fall on the ski slopes. She was having a short holiday with her two sons. Her death is tragic enough but C pointed out that her family also have to live with the knowledge that her face is sharing front page billing in every newspaper in the western world with that monster Fritzl, who really doesn’t deserve to live.
I’m just recovering. No, not from the Fat Duck bug; I’m well over that and back to my fighting weight (the ‘Chris Moyles’ or as it’s more commonly known, size XXL). Last week I was having a shave whilst C was in the bath. As I changed the dull blade in my Sensor Excell, the mirror became steamed up so I was flying blind with a new and very sharp triple-bladed razor, about to shave the back of my very tender-skinned head. Regular readers will know what happened next. Yep. I didn’t just nick myself, I nearly took my f*cking ear off.
I’m running behind schedule a bit on the postings. Last weekend was a bit of a blast – C shot down to Brighton on Friday after work to spend the evening with E, S and the boys. I was still feeling a bit grim and didn’t want to re-share the gastric bug with them all. C got back early afternoon on Saturday and we headed up to see Keith and C in Finmere. Keith and I watched the remains of the Italy v Wales match and then the Scotland v Ireland game whilst C and C did their facial stuff. Afterwards C prepared a great meal and we had a great chat about K’s upcoming exhibition in Venice (check out the link to Keith’s web-site on the Pasta Paulie home page) as well as sorting out the political situation/the recesssion/what to do with the bloody bankers before hitting the sack. Always a good night with the Jansz’s.
I’ve been catching up with lots of UK tv as you can tell from recent blogs and whilst it is immeasurably better than Italian telly in terms of general quality (although nothing comes close to matching their presenters), it’s still full of truly annoying people. And I’m sure it can’t be just me.
A few days ago I popped down to see our grandkids – my daughter and the boys had picked up a gastric bug and they were all really poorly. Thankfully they are pretty much over it now but last night it came out in me. And when I say ‘came out’ I really mean exploded from me. I’ll spare you the graphic details but when I went to the bathroom for the first time my body weight was close to Chris Moyles’; by the time I’d climbed off the porcelain for the final time this morning I couldn’t have weighed more than Cheryl Cole. I’ve felt absolutely wasted all day, totally drained, legs aching (why on earth is that?). So tonight I was hoping for a little light relief from the BBC’s Comic Relief night. Ummm.
I was missing Italy yesterday. It would have been great to have been back there to pop down to our favourite bar/coffee shop in Servigliano to bask in the glory of the four Premiership’s clubs winning through to the Champion’s League quarter finals. Three of those clubs having won against top Italian Serie A sides of course. That said all the 2nd leg matches were close (except Liverpool’s virtual bye against the ageing matadors of Real Madrid) but there seems to be a lot of teeth gnashing in the Italian press about the power and strength in the Premiership. Well these things are cyclical but at the moment we do seem to be top dogs, which almost certainly means that Barca will go and win the bloody tournament – no doubt pleasing Messrs Platini and Blatter enormously.
Well I seem to be on a TV kick at the moment. I was interested to read yesterday that ITV’s advertising revenues and profts are steeply down so Michael Grade is dramatically slashing production costs by canning a number of shows/programmes. Expensive drama productions are the first in line for the guillotine and, in the midst of all this televisual doom and gloom what happens? along come, not one, but two dramas to demonstrate the power of the tv medium. I wrote about the programme Margaret only recently and then on Thursday night I caught the first in the trilogy entitled Red Riding. It’s set in West Yorkshire in the late 70’s and features child abductions, torture, the gruesome Ripper killings and a corrupt and amoral police force. It’s dark, bleak and lacking in any sense of redemption. And it starred Sean Bean, the truly annoying voice of Aw Toe. I should have disliked with a passion but it was gripping viewing even if most of it was done through clenched fingers. Here’s a thought Michael Grade, kill off all that Heartbeat crap and invest in programmes like this – totally absorbing drama for a change.