99. Not for those of a nervous disposition.

ANONYMOUS VAGRANT.

Anonymous John's wife and our good pal, Sheila, has sent us an email headed Vagrant. It seems this decidedly dicey character has been seen in the vicinity of Sheila and Anonymous John's mini manor, a pleasant abode where they have lived in modest luxury (with the occasional meal) ever since A.J. won a few quid on the viewers' lottery, masquerading as a competition, that occurs daily on the ITV1 programme Dickinson's Raw Deal (sic).
I think Anonymous John should beware.
An anonymous vagrant like this could have designs on his wife and his winnings.

IT'S ALL OR NOTHING.

I have been engaged in what our daughter-in-law, Pauline, jocularly refers to as playing dolls houses again. This time it has involved the dismantling of built-in bookcases and their departure, along with over a thousand books, from our first (American second) floor computer room to a variety of destinations.
My Leader empathises but cannot refrain from the gentle dig that I am overdoing it. She says it's all or nothing with me. I try to dismiss such calumny but truth to tell I'm knackered.
Never mind, the job is almost done, though I have not tackled a blog post since the 19th of February.
Doesn't time fly when you're having fun?

THE BRITISH WEATHER.

Never ceases to surprise that in an area of land stretching at most 874 miles (Land's End to John O'Groats) there can be blizzards in Scotland and Northern England, flood warnings in The Midlands and balmy weather from London to the South Coast. All at the same time.
We have just experienced hurricane conditions throughout much of England.
Not in Scotland. The sun shone and birds sang in Inverness.
Oh yes, we Brits do have a reason for our obsession with the weather. Which leads me, somewhat tortuously, to...

DANCING ON ICE (ITV1).

This is one of those winter television programmes that has celebrities (many of whom have allegedly never skated before) partnered with professional ice skaters in a bid to become the best duo in yet another reality competition.
Viewers are invited to vote. The money made from their telephone calls probably pays the participants' fees and may even cover the cost of Phillip Schofield's eyebrow pencil.
During the last series I saw that definitive little battler Bonny Langford get her head cracked, so this time I was inclined to give it a miss. I like Bonny.
But my Leader is a fan of the programme and, in the way of a woman who could have taught Margaret Thatcher the art of manipulation, inveigled my interest with the words: "Linda Lusardi's in it."
Now lovely Linda, in the nicest possible way, is a standing joke in our house.
When we first moved here I found myself listening, amused and slightly alarmed, as little Jess discussed with her mother which startling pink she should have on the main wall of the bedroom we had set aside for her. She would only be in the room for one night a week, but she knew what she wanted. I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want startling pink.
In those days paint manufacturers were giving weird names to their colours. Names like Mortimer Mauve, Belinda Blue and Winsome White were not unusual.
I ambled back to the kitchen and my Leader, busy cooking, enquired: "How are they doing?"
"She wants Penelope Pink in her bedroom," I said. "Well, I want Linda Lusardi in my bedroom but it ain't going to happen."
I came to like that pink wall eventually. I was a little disappointed when Jess changed rooms and it was re-decorated.
Oh, Linda Lusardi was all too soon voted off Dancing On Ice. But she tried bravely and came across as a thoroughly nice person.

ICE ROAD TRUCKERS (Five).

This documentary series followed the fortunes of a bunch of cussedly reckless individuals.
It seems that every winter ice roads are constructed across the expanse of frozen lakes in Canada's Northwest Territories.
Along these roads tons of essential supplies are delivered by truck to the diamond mines. Top money is paid to those prepared to put their skill and nerve to the test in making such deliveries.
The trucks are huge, the loads enormous and the ice road often barely three feet thick atop water which can and will swallow up vehicle, driver and cargo in a careless or just unlucky instant.
As the season draws out the ice gradually thaws until, eventually, there is no road. Well, not until next year.
For whatever reason they do it, money, pride, daring, the ice road truckers are a breed apart.
They are gamblers. They are heroes. They are bloody mad!
My Leader and I think they are great.

THE FIXER (ITV1).

John Mercer (Andrew Buchan) is an ex soldier, a killer with a conscience, a man required against his will to perform acts of murder. He has a lame duck assistant, Calum (Jody Latham), a colleague, Rose, who the management has planted on him (Tamzin Outhwaite) and a ruthless boss called Lenny (Peter Mullan).
I quite enjoyed the first episode. Well I knew I would because I liked it forty years ago. It ran from 1967 to 1972 and it was called Callan.
David Callan (Edward Woodward) was an ex soldier, a killer with a conscience etc. He had a lame duck assistant, Lonely (Russell Hunter), colleagues Meres (Anthony Valentine) and later Cross (Patrick Mower) placed by the management to keep an eye on him and a ruthless boss called Hunter (firstly Ronald Radd and finally William Squire).
Yep, The Fixer is simply 21st century Callan.
I don't know whether Callan writer James Mitchell has grounds for legal action against Fixer writer Ben Richards, but if I was Ben I'd be careful in future not to be standing too near the edge of an underground railway platform when the train is coming in.