Well, it’s Friday …
At this moment, what is your favourite…
I don’t actually have a favourite song. Not at this precise moment. I’m in a very I-have-no-favourite-song mood today. However, if you’d enquired last Saturday I would have said that it was Silence Is Easy by Starsailor. On Sunday it would have been Nice Weather For Ducks by Lemon Jelly. About fourteen years ago it would have been Sister Moon by Transvision Vamp. And tomorrow it will probably be Bright Eyes [the Manics version].
Tesco cottage cheese with tuna & sweetcorn of course Silly. And chocolate. But only because I’m trying not to eat it. Oh, apart from the Celebrations at work …
3. …tv show?
EastEnders. It’s so scrummy. And I don’t understand why people label it as being miserable. I’ve watched almost every episode since it started and rarely do I not chuckle at least once. And this evening was no exception. Ooh Janine, you deceitful tramp.
Chanel No. 5 for me. And a manly natural smell for The Blokey, with a dash of Obsession thrown in for good measure. If it was summer and raining at the moment then my favourite scent would be summer rain. Alas, it is simply raining. Or drizzling. Well, it’s damp anyway. And chilly. No nice smell there then.
“He kissed the plump mellow yellor smellor melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation” [James Joyce]
I received a mail the other day from an older man. Ooh, Elsabeth. Apparently he’s my 4th cousin twice removed. It’s a long story. Anyhoo, this mail was concerning what it’s like to be a child today and it’s probably something that is doing the rounds, and that we all think about anyway at some point so I thought I’d contribute. Being the nice person that I am .
I suppose that really it stems from watching children’s telly. Being the lucky soul that I am and working in a school I get my holidays at the same time as the tiddlers and thus the telly changes. I get to see all those programmes that other adults don’t. And it’s pure horror. I remember being at primary school and loving the approach of the long summer holidays because I just knew that I would be treated to The Red Hand Gang, Heidi, The Littlest Hobo, Why Don’t You and another foreign [possibly German] drama about a boy called Silas or something similar. It was dubbed and we loved to laugh at it. These were on every year without fail. At least in my hazy memory. Maybe all my summer holidays have just congealed into one useless lump in my mind. Those were days where we compared and argued over our rollerboots, went cycling up to Witches Wood [even though we weren’t supposed to], knew everybody in the village, played WonderWoman [or Who Can Get Dizzy The Fastest] on the front lawn, and played on the Spectrum. We danced to things like Pass The Dutchie and anything by Tracey Ullman [if you were me].
And when the summer was over we always walked to school, knew that our weekends would be full of Dr Who, Saturday Swapshop/Going Live, Jim’ll Fix It [no, I never wrote to him – I was too shy], The Smurfs, Mr T. And we knew that one day we would get to be on Crackerjack. And no, the version by Blue Peter was nowhere near as good as when I was little.
I do still wish sometimes that I lived in that world, where I didn’t have to worry about bills and work, where I didn’t hear a mobile phone ringing every two seconds in the street. A time when I absolutely loved writing and receiving letters. I rarely even bother to write letters now. Occasionally to relatives but other than that most things are done on the computer. I didn’t have to worry about chatting to friends on the Internet because I would actually go outside and play with them. And we would fight and have accidents and nobody got sued and we were allowed to develop our learning through play at school. Plus we got a free bottle of milk every playtime. Until I was six. And it was always warm. Yummy. I didn’t even know what a video was.
I’m not convinced that life is any better than it was, but I don’t say that it’s worse. It’s just different. I do worry that children don’t have the same development process that we had but that stems from technology and I can’t change that. Maybe I just don’t want to grow up in a world dominated by technology that consists of more than the telly in the corner of the lounge. And that was one telly per household .
But I still think they miss out by not being able to see The Red Hand Gang et al …
God Bless Technology as without it I wouldn’t be able to share my gobbledygook with strangers xxx Elsabeth