GILES'S PREDICTION.
On the rare occasion that I am in masochistic mood I visit the website of Giles Turnbull and linger long enough to be reminded how little I know about this computer lark.
Mr. Turnbull, who is also a husband, dad, freelance writer, singer and photographer, clearly knows a very great deal about computers. I despair. I have been driving a car for fifty years without knowing anything other than how to top up the windscreen washer water and shove some air into the tyres. If I turn the ignition key and it fails to start I curse and ring for help. It is unlikely that I will ever understand the computer.
What's more, I too am a husband, a dad, still have an old Box Brownie somewhere and nowadays have a singing voice about which the late Henry Root might have said: "He's no Michael Buble but he is bad."
None of which does anything to lift my depression when the knowledgeable Mr.T predicts, as he has recently, that in less time than it took to start a run on Northern Rock, all our blog stuff will be erased.
Sadly I had rather looked forward (when bucket kicking time arrives) to soaring through the ether and being hailed by a friendly shout of "Hi, Barney," (the army nickname) "been reading your blogstuff...there's a posse of politicians hell bent on keeping you out of their heaven!" and shouting back: "Thanks, mate, I've been relying on it."
But now it is not to be. The blogstuff will have disappeared like a forgotten celebrity. Someone in the ether will have wrapped their spiritual fish and chips in it.
I have Giles Turnbull's educated opinion and I'll bet he's right.
Ah well, I still drive the car when the engine sparks into life so I might as well still thump the computer keys when I have been welcomed to XP.
The results won't last forever, but nothing does.
And I will continue to visit http://gilest.org/. (surreptitiously) until the Blog Ed's blue pencil or intransigent time puts an end to it.
What?
Oh, I shall read the non technical stuff and look at the pictures.
I'm good at that.
DEPARTURE OF THE PORTUGUESE IN THE POSH OVERCOAT.
On the day that The Pensioner's manager departed I called to the cat Shadow: "Jose Mourinho has left Chelsea! It's been on the news!"
"Well that's no surprise," he said. "Word was out on the roof weeks back."
"Really? Saying what?" I asked.
"Saying that the Portuguese in the posh overcoat had taken to the track suit. 'He's on his way out,' they said."
"Because he'd taken to the track suit?" I jeered. "You're having a laugh."
"Change of image, change of team," he intoned sententiously.
I shook my head. "Come and have some breakfast," I spluttered.
Well, what can you say?
AGATHA CHRISTIE'S MARPLE. (ITV1 Sunday 23rd September)
This time it was At Bertram's Hotel, probably Agatha Christie's most nonsensical whodunnit (discounting anything to do with the ludicrous duo Tommy and Tuppence) and proof that even a very famous mystery writer should have avoided incorporating an institution like Brown's - which I believe was her favourite hotel and the model for Bertram's - into a story without making sure the plot was equal to the location.
Geraldine McEwan's Miss Marple was again completely different from the late Joan Hickson's definitive portrayal. I think the author would have liked Ms. McEwan little more than she liked Margaret Rutherford in the role, but I like her whoever she's playing.
Martine McCutcheon was fine as her volunteer assistant.
Francesca Annis, Peter Davison and the remainder of a hard working cast struggled gamely to make sense of it all and very nearly succeeded.
DOC MARTIN. (ITV1 Monday 24th September)
Martin Clunes is back as the Cornish village GP Martin Ellingham who is sickened by the sight of blood. This is Sunday night fare held over for a day. Daft storylines are rescued by the leading actors (see Monarch of the Glen, Heartbeat, The Royal etc.) and it makes perfect viewing for someone doing the quick crossword.
I like the fact that among the quaint characters, unbelievable love interests and barmpot story lines, Martin Clunes's former hospital consultant rings true if only for his pomposity and rudeness.
As an old boss of mine once said: "The most unbearable GPs are the failed consultants."
He was right, y'know.
WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? NURSES SPECIAL.
(ITV1 Tuesday 25th September)
There was a large and sympathetic studio audience, doubtless a large and sympathetic viewing public and Chris Tarrant sucking in air through his teeth with a loud hissing noise. None of it helped much. Nerves clearly took over. One nurse won £20,000, two won £10,000 and, if general knowledge was anything to go by, your life was anything but safe in their hands.
Perhaps they were put off by ol' Tarrant's hissing, perhaps it was the sudden realization that they were frighteningly vulnerable away from the security of their hospital specialism, but one of them even had to check with the audience that a contusion was a bruise.
Never mind, they all took the money at the right time.
Hurray for that!
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