An Easter Monday of dire TV, as usual. Last night the BBC announced a block-buster evening of TV and in the same breath ironically mentioned Eastenders and yet another repeat of Wallace and Grommet in The Wrong Trousers. The adverts on ITV are more interesting than the programmes. Even tried watching Mr Bean play Maigret as Inspector Fred Thursday, but how many interpretations can you squeeze out of one detective in a lifetime? - it seems only yesterday Michael Gambon was playing him. I guess advertising money is now spread too thinly over a proliferation of independent channels and the BBC licence fee can't keep pace with an explosion in highly paid BBC managers. Both networks seem intent on paying entertainers millions for contracts too.
Had a late family lunch in the kampong on Sunday. Hay's dad and Barbara disappeared just before 9pm to see The Night Manager on TV, but Shell and Perry remained. We started to watch YouTube music videos, all taking a turn to choose our own favourites. Naturally enough, one choice would stimulate a choice from the next in line that followed a theme. Unfortunately Perry led us into a Prog Rock dead-end with Greenslade, from which it was impossible to escape. I mean, how do you get away from 5 minute drum solos and some of the worst Prog Rock excesses and self-indulgences of a band like Greenslade? The only possible escape route would be via Ginger Baker, but we simply weren't prepared to tread that path for fear or yet more interminable drum solos and called it a night.
Took a walk to our local bridge over the Great Western Line to see what they're doing for the electrification of the line. They're beefing up several of the bridges to support something, presumably the electrification cables.
Brunel must be turning in his grave over that brickwork! Hay's dad near had apoplexy.
No comments:
Post a Comment