The problem I have with attending the writing group is that the sudden mental stimulation after all the apathy and lethargy – coupled with the adrenaline and caffeine of course – means that the words start tumbling out of me which means a night of insomnia as I try to get the words down on (metaphorical) paper and leads to a quite groggy morning after for both me and the long-suffering beloved (who holds no truck with social networking sites, wishes no part of it, and will probably never be mentioned again in these less than hallowed musings).
So, with all that in mind, I’m trying to make sense of a jumble of thoughts this morning from my thoughts on poetry and my difficult relationship with it or the sheer consistent bulk brilliance of many American TV Drama and Comedy shows (I may share another day…) to “poking” on FizzBok and what it might actually refer to. Then there’s the real story behind the drama piece I wrote called called THE BITTER END, and how it relates to my own social anxiety, which might be a story worth telling one day. Or not.
Switching on the TV this morning to try and distract my few remaining little grey cells has me pondering whether I could buy some storage space at the Chatsworth auction to help alleviate the pressure of the increasing amounts of tat currently scattered about MAWH Towers or whether the cyclists from the Isle of Man’s reluctance to attend the Commonwealth Games in India is symptomatic of a greater reluctance to leave the island at all.
Is a long(ish) critique of the general shoddiness of the editorial policy on BBC Breakfast long overdue? Just tell me the flippin’ news and stop telling me what you “reckon” (Sian and Susannah, I’m looking at you) and while you’re at it, stop asking the “Great British Public” what they “reckon” too. Most of us are so ill-informed anyway that we haven’t got a clue what we’re talking about at the best of times, so giving us a national platform seems to border on the irresponsible.
Of course that’s the way things are in the modern world. “Power to the people” and all that. Ah yes! For ‘tis the age of t’interweb and the Clemeron runs a country where what the people “reckon” really matters. Nowadays we have a Utopian universal forum that’s levelled everybody’s playing field so much that allows even the most radical of viewpoints to find like minds to help them to form a movement with, rather than just being told how daft they are by their mates when they mouth off down the pub. Give an extremist contact with another extremist and suddenly their views don’t seem quite so extreme to them any more. Next thing you know, they’ve got a following and society is off to hell in a handbasket and we’ve “empowered” them to do it. Well done us.
I’ve long suspected that the “I reckon” factor plays a big part in what them there media folk in the big city broadcast anyway. Many of the stories seem to come from that week’s Panorama, or the latest issue of the Radio Times or maybe just a slice of a regional programme that might have a human interest angle, but more often than not you start to think that it’s just a thought one of the researchers had on their way to work that morning. “I nearly got knocked off my bike this morning” becomes an item on the dangers “Cycling in the City” or little Tamsin or Tony gets a bad mark in a maths test and suddenly there’s a report on declining educational standards in the school system.
I also “reckon” (which immediately validates my point of view of course) that the many surveys and statistics they ask come from just asking around the office. “Right, has anyone else nearly been knocked off their bike? Six of us… Right… So out of the eight of us here, that’s… ‘75% of people say they’ve had a near miss whilst cycling.’ What’s that Gavin? You were actually knocked off? ‘and nearly a quarter of those have had a serious injury!’” They certainly don’t seem to go far for their “I reckons” at any rate. Most of the vox pops that BBC Manchester present seem to have the BBC offices in the background or be no further than a quarter of a mile up the road. “I’ll just pop over the road and ask that lot over their what they “reckon”. Back in a sec…”
When you consider their imminent move northwards, I’m also slightly suspicious of the amount of items suddenly coming from the heart of Manchester anyway. Is it practice to ease the film crews into finding their way around the North? Are they trying to get the Southern audiences prepared for news items not being about London? More likely than not they’re linking their trip up North in with a visit to the Estate Agents. Then of course we’re “back to the studio” where an educator making a quite serious observation on the evolution of language gets patronised in a “listen to the funny sounding teenagers” kind of way.
Sigh! Maybe it’s just that I don’t feel they’re talking to me. There seems to be what I can only describe as a “mumsy” bias to the whole sorry spectacle. Maybe from a more “family friendly” point of view the entire thing makes perfect sense. Anyway, in MAWH Towers we’ve taken to turning the sound down until the local weather comes on, which is the only real reason it was ever switched on at all. I used to listen to John and Jim in the car at that time of day anyway, so maybe it’s time I returned to that particular fold, although I will miss Bill talking about his bees…
Bees are cool!
No that was cool - thanks Mart.
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