I need to occasionally remind myself of this, actually. The TwitWorld is sometimes so intimate that you really can persuade yourself that you’re having a one-on-one conversation with the person whose little nuggets of life you’re following, and it’s sometimes just too easy to find yourself typing out a personal question as if you’re on some kind of forum and forget that it would be drowned out by all the other thousands of Twits surrounding you. It’s probably not unlike trying to have a quiet word with the manager whilst standing in the middle of the crowd at the World Cup Final and I really, really must stop it.
On Friday morning as I was driving back from the railway station I saw a grown man obviously on his way to work sporting a red nose and I was reminded that it was indeed “Red Nose Day” again. My first thought, of course was: “I bet that he’s the comedy lynchpin of wherever he works”, the quintessential “A good laugh” (shudder!) and made a mental note to stay well away from such people. Luckily, as I work alone, staying away from the “fun” people isn’t difficult. I did wonder whether BBC Breakfast are missing a trick by not converting the “Red Button” to a nose for the day, but I can’t see anyone else caring about that. I also wondered whether my HAL9000 spoof that morning counted as at least a vague attempt at being funny, as it did kind of have a red nose, didn’t it? I don’t suppose anyone noticed anyway.
Of course, St Patrick’s Day the day before managed to pass me by fairly unnoticed. It always seems odd that in England it seems to get more than its fair share of attention, but St George’s Day and St David’s Day both seem to be almost wholly unremarkable. Maybe St Patrick had a better press agent. I was asked a couple of questions about Ireland earlier this week in that “we asked 100 people” kind of a way and never even realised that it was probably a St Patrick’s Day related thing. I very quickly realised that I didn’t really know much about Irish culture despite having been there quite a few times and most of what I did know came from watching “Father Ted”. The only Irish landmark I could think of, for example, was the Giants’ Causeway and the only Irish female singer was Dana. Maybe it’s an age thing. I was asked to name an Irish sportsman and was completely at a loss, despite eulogising over Kevin O’Brien at the World Cup only a couple of weeks ago. How soon we forget.
England (and Wales) are managing to stumble hopelessly on in their less than convincing attempt upon winning the ICC Cricket World Cup 2011. Listening to their games is still proving to be a bit of an emotional Rollercoaster, although you could at least argue that all of their games have at least been interesting (in a cricket kind of a way – if you don’t like cricket, I’m sure nothing will convince you of this…) and have managed to breathe new life into the 50 over format, the death of which has been much anticipated in cricketing circles in recent years. So, the tournament burbles on, with the possibility just about remaining that one of the home nations will progress into the second round, although the cruel twists, turns and quirks of fate brought about by unexpected results could still (at the time of writing) scupper this and lead to the usual wailing and gnashing of teeth, although no doubt not with quite the same scale of lamentation and woe as an ignominious exit from the footballing version tends to.
I spent the week awaiting a few deliveries which kept on failing to appear. The beloved’s birthday looms and so a certain amount of online purchasing has come into play again. I suspect the usual Postie is on holiday and the rest of his colleagues can’t be bothered doing his round and sorting the packages, but I’m reliably informed that the postal service really shouldn’t work like that. There was, however, suspiciously little in the way of actual deliveries this week, and the ones we did get were much, much later in the day than usual. It just means that the slightest noise outside tends to find me hurling myself down the stairs to try to prevent the arrival of another little red cardboard notification of doom telling me that they’d tried to deliver something but I was out.
The bank kept on ringing me, wanting me to open another account, but didn’t seem to accept that I was perfectly happy to leave things as they are for the time being, thank you very much for the kind offer, etc. No matter how often I try to explain this, I find that they still want to give me time to think about it and promise to call me back again in a few days after I’ve had time to think it over. I usually hang up the phone and immediately completely forget that the call ever occurred, so the follow up call usually surprises me all over again, and the poor Telesales Operative dealing with my finances seems utterly astonished that I haven’t spent every waking minute since their last call going over the pros and cons of their incredibly lucrative offer. How could I not want to earn interest on my money? Well, it’s simple really, generally I don’t have any. There might well be cash in the account at this point in the month, but there’s unlikely to be much left in there by the end of it. I’ve never been particularly interested in financial shenanigans and jiggery-pokery anyway. Saving the odd pound here and there by juggling my gas supplier, for example, always seems to be a pointless load of fuss when it all seems to even out in the long run. Matters of interest, it seems, don’t stimulate my interest.
Finally, another metaphorical glass should be raised to the memory of the departure from this mortal coil of yet another of those great character actors who so filled my younger days with joy at their performances, as the rather fabulous Michael Gough has died at the seemingly indeterminate great age of 93, 94 or 95, depending on whom you choose to believe. Each and every way, it was still “a good innings”, as the saying goes (although remaining “Not out” seems preferable). International fame came to him relatively late in life when he became “Alfred the Butler” in a series of “Batman” films, but for me he was always associated with Hammer Films, as well as being one of those rather marvelous recurring villains in all of those great 1960s series, most memorably in “The Avengers” where he was the original mad-scientist creator of the Cybernauts. Here’s to you, sir, with thanks!
Bob Greaves is another who sadly lost his fight against cancer this week. I remember watching him on Granada Reports each weekday when I still lived up that way, and what a lovely chap he seemed to be too. He popped up a few years later on a "Wanted Down Under" program when he and his wife were considering a move to Australia, He chose Altrincham!!
ReplyDeleteI too am at a loss as to why St Patricks Day gets so much publicity and support, and can only think it has something to do with that awful tasting black stout like beer with the white frothy top that takes forever to pour. Still, I remember drinking that very drink mixed with an equal part of cider back in my miss spent youth. Only tried it once, and the ensuing hangover more than convinced me it was not something to be repeated!