NICOLA.
On Tuesday 6th May. 2008 we attended the funeral of Nicola (Royston-Parry) Graham, daughter of my wife's niece, Barbara.
Nicola had spina bifida and was not expected to live beyond eighteen years. That she made it to thirty three was a tribute to the care she received from medical professionals, the love of her immediate family, the support from friends and sympathetic organizations and her own immense courage.
The funeral service was lovely. Conducted by a young woman, Amy Brading, there was not a religious moment in it. Nicky's favourite music (e.g. Eva Cassidy singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow) was played and I cannot remember being more moved or impressed by a service, ever.
Way to go, kid, way to go.
NICE ONE POMPEY!
Yes! Portsmouth has something to celebrate at last.
Harry Redknapp's Pompey football team won the FA Cup last Saturday in a fascinating, if somewhat scrappy, 1 - 0 tussle with Cardiff City.
My Leader and I are Portmuthians so the win gave us particular pleasure. I was only eight years old when last they won it and that was five years before she was born.
"Can we expect a little more from you now that Pompey has won the Cup?" inquired the cat Shadow.
"There's been a lot on." I said defensively.
"You haven't put finger to keyboard for three weeks," he said. "That's not so much a lot on as downright bloody laziness."
"Don't you be mealy-mouthed now, mate," I said. "You speak your mind."
Well I wouldn't have bothered but the little perisher slept right through the match.
Actually, Maureen didn't watch it, either. She had important needlework to do.
Pays to get your priorities right.
BACK TO THE BOX.
Dexter. (ITV1)
Saw the last couple of episodes of this well acted nonsense and am still not sure whether it better deserves commendation or castigation. In truth, I find it an amoral conception which leads to occasionally uncomfortable viewing. It will be a questionable choice next time around.
My son, a gentle chap, thoroughly enjoys it.
Guess it's an age thing.
Dr.Who. (BBC1)
This time the doctor was in Agatha Christie country.
Fenella Woolgar was Agatha, poised to make the dramatic disappearance that probably sold more books in a fortnight than her publisher's mediocre publicity would in a decade.
Felicity Kendal was there, sadly without Pam Ferris, so the crime solving fell to the Doctor and Donna.
Donna's contribution was littered with helpful Christie book titles and plot ideas for Agatha to ponder upon when she got to Harrogate.
I think the vicar was a bee (a lot of them are) and for the life of me I cannot remember the whys and wherefores of it all.
But then I seldom ever did with Mrs.Christie's stuff, so that was nothing new.
CSI: NY. (Five)
Are they ever going to catch that bloody taxicab killer?
Class of 62 - from 15 to 60. (BBC2)
This followed the lives of Marion Gaunt and her friends after they left Sandford Secondary Modern School. Leeds.
What a doughty bunch. My Leader and I sat fascinated as each told of her hopes, her disappointments, her search for fulfillment, her successes and her failures.
Don't usually watch what I regard as voyeuristic programmes.
Don't even watch the soaps.
But this was different.
This was the real world inhabited by real northern women and it was worth every minute of the watching.
So good luck to you all, Class of 62.
And now, for a bit of fun, the ultimate CSI spin-off -
CSI: IW
Executive Producer: Dennis Barnden
Director; Jessica White.
Series 1. Episode 1/1: - Crushem Gets The Needle.
Will Crushem and his Isle of Wight CSI team are investigating a messy murder in a seaside apartment which contains a corpse, ample lighting and an in-credit electricity account.
They are searching for clues by torchlight.
The victim is a young woman. Her clothing is in disarray and from the lapel of her dishevelled jacket Crushem recovers the pointed half of a needle which he drops into a plastic bag.
Crushem's GFA (Glamorous Female Assistant) spots a pink crumb on the four hundred square feet of bloodstained carpet: she recovers the crumb with tweezers and it, too, goes into a plastic bag.
Crushem's GMA (Glamorous Male Assistant) watches her admiringly. He is in love with her, but wisely refrains from telling her so on the grounds that same-job relationships are a mistake. Besides, if he tells her she will certainly be dead before the series ends.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Looks like pink shortbread," she replies.
"Crumbs!" he exclaims.
"Well...one, anyway," says Crushem.
(Cue theme song - The Who's newly adapted: Blimey O'Reilly, Who Are You Foolin' Again?)
In her laboratory, Crushem's KFG (Kookie Forensic Genius) quickly reaches a startling conclusion: this is not blood soaked ordinary shortbread, this really is pink shortbread. It was only marketed a fortnight ago and is sold in just one shop. To date a mere two people have bought it (we are told by the KFG's male colleague who is in love with her) and one of them was sent to prison last week. So the other is either the victim or the perpetrator...
What fun.
In the path lab Crushem's EDC&F (Eccentric Doctor Colleague and Friend) finds no trace of shortbread in or on the vic. What he does find is a strand of hay in the vic's shoe and the hay (according to the KFG) is particular to one farm in the West Wight.
So now we know. The perp, not the vic, bought the shortbread.
Furthermore, the KFG's besotted colleague tells us, the perp is known to the shopkeeper who sold said shortbread.
The perp is (surprise, surprise) a farmer in the West Wight.
The Team moves in.
They corner the farmer in his hay barn in broad daylight. They are wearing body armour and helmets with lighted torches affixed to them, They have pistols at the ready.
"She shouldn't 'ave turned me and me shortbread down," he shouts, brandishing a shotgun in their direction. "Cost me a ...king fortune that shortbread did. An' then, when I ate the lot in front of 'er, she called me a greedy pig! Shouldn'ta said that, not when I was carryin' me brand new riphook...I mean, ain't that askin' for trouble?" So saying he aims his shotgun at the GMA, fires and (despite the fact that he unfailingly kills game on the run and bird on the wing with a single shot) misses.
There is a hail of return gunfire and he lands lifeless in the hay.
(C.U. bullets tearing through specially prepared carcass from local butcher's shop.)
Crushem reaches him first and plucks the other half of the needle found in the vic's lapel from the sleeve of his tweed jacket.
"Looks like you just found a needle in a haystack, C," says the GFA.
"Half of one, anyway," says Crushem.
(Show disclaimer regarding events, characters and any degree of realism. Give notice that any likeness to any living person should result in that person seeking immediate psychiatric help.)
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