So this morning I was watching something on C4, probably Frasier, when at the end of the programme the continuity announcer informed us that later this evening is the start of a super new series (note, not a one-off but a whole f**king series) about the life of cake maker Paul Hollywood. My ears started bleeding.
Now readers of a certain vintage will know that we used to live in Buckingham before moving out to Italy. Seems like a long time ago and yet here we are living back in the Parish (well nearby). Now one of our neighbours then was one of the guys out of the band Mud (I think the drummer) who is sadly no longer tapping out a beat. Nor is lead singer Les Gray, equally sadly, who I can still see now on ToTP crooning along to how lonely he was at this time of year. Must have been those tiger feet of his. Continue reading
So I’m doing some consultancy for a local marketing company (it’s a great story for another posting) and they’re doing this Secret Santa thing for Xmas in the office and they’ve kindly invited me to join in. They’re all such young guys and I’ve just hit the one age that nobody wants to hit, ever, because you turn into this Old And Past it person. Argh. So I can remember events from back in the Middle Ages and I was drawn to get something interesting for a fascinating young woman who wasn’t even born when Glenn Hoddle lost his job as England manager and Tracy Emin exhibited her unmade bed at Tate Modern. Yes she’s that old.
Words almost fail me but not quite. This is the cover for the new debut album from TV presenter-cum-builder Nick Knowles released just in time for Xmas. Sigh. You’d think to yourself who the f88k’s going to buy that pile of self-indulgent crap? Well his record company thinks 100,000s will. Eh?
I was sad to learn of the death of Tim Gudgin earlier this week. Who he? Well his was the voice reading out the footie results on a Saturday evening on the BBC’s Grandstand programme. And if you were a footie fan ahhh; his mellow mellifluous tones were just wonderful. You could guess the result simply from his lyrical delivery. Blackpool winning at home against Man City would be delivered Blackpool 4… in a rising tone – you knew already they’d won – Man City 0… in a deeper more depressing and lower tone. Glorious. I can hear him now. Though I have to admit it’s been a while since I’ve actually heard that scoreline.
Now I haven’t posted for a week or so. Run out of words? You’re joking – as I’ve said before I’m so full of it the stuff pours out of me. But in this tiny wee house we’ve got just one place where a tv or my desk top can sit. And of course the Big Apple wins. So now it conveniently doubles as our TV monitor thanks to the glory that is the iplayer. Now that’s all well and good but in the evening when I tend to do my website postings, the computer becomes our tv, so viewing triumphs over blogging. But tonight I’ve reverted to doing a posting on my mini iPad just like I did in New York. And it’s a right frigging faff.
Pasta Paulie 