IN THE NEWS.
Poor Press.
Nobody expects Gordon Brown to be viewed with much favour anymore.
It is clear, though, that he has been attempting to express his sympathy with those who have lost loved ones in the Afghanistan conflict by sending them a hand written letter of condolence.
Surely that is something to his credit, even if you believe the continuation of our part in the war is not.
Now a bereaved mother has been further upset because his letter to her family contained an incorrect spelling of their son’s name.
It was a regrettable, though I think understandable, mistake.
But I am old enough to remember how thousands disappeared in two world wars with their missing presumed deaths coldly disclosed in a telegram delivered by a downcast telegraph boy.
I would not want to see such a soulless system reintroduced just to avoid the blame for a misspelled name falling on any individual.
Would you?
Would that tabloid with tits The Sun?
Nurses.
Latest in the war on NHS common sense waged by wacky Department of Health advisers is the decision that by 2013 all nurses will be required to have a degree qualification. The nursing diploma will no longer suffice.
Now I have no objection to education. Didn’t get that much of it, so respect it the more.
But I do believe some jobs are best served by common sense and that a PhD in bedpan manipulation will be a qualification too far.
A nurse does not need a degree, she needs humanity.
Edward Woodward OBE.
We were sorry to hear the news of this fine actor’s death on the 16th November.
His early television appearances as Callan were gems.
They gained him a British Academy Television Award for Best Actor and thousands of fans (among them my Leader and me).
His role as McCall in the American television series The Equalizer won him a 1986 Golden Globe Award and he was an acclaimed stage and film performer.
He could sing, too.
Those who knew him said he was a pleasant man.
So did those who came across him by chance.
Back in the late sixties, the elderly father-in-law of a colleague of mine found himself sharing a railway carriage with “A chap on his own who looked as though he thought at first I might know him…”
They chatted all the way to Town.
After they had left the train and exchanged cheery farewells, the old gent’s son, waiting on the concourse to meet him, exclaimed: “ Dad! You never told me you knew Callan!”
“Who?”
“Edward Woodward. Callan on the tele. He’s famous.”
“Really? He didn‘t say. Nice young chap…very intelligent…liked him…“
On a personal note, it was while watching Callan that my first boss on the Isle of Wight was reported to have said to his wife: “I don’t care what he’s called in this programme, I see him in the office every day. His real name’s Barnden. He’s my Deputy.”
I could have been likened to many less worthy characters.
Thank you, Edward Woodward.
R.I.P.
READING.
Flowers For His Funeral.
It is some time since I began and finished a book inside a week but this Mitchell and Markby page turner by Ann Granger (Headline, 1994) kept me reading as though I was back in the old tuppence-a-week library days.
Guessed the murderer - always satisfying - but was caught out by the denouement - a reminder not to get too smug - and came away thinking I really must obtain more of this readable writer’s updated whodunits.
TELEVISION.
Doctor Who. (BBC1)
The Waters of Mars starred David Tennant and Lindsay Duncan, was co-written by Russell T. Davies and Phil Ford and was the first of a final three part episode which will conclude with David Tennant’s departure from the Doctor role at Christmas.
Here we had a darker and more self-absorbed Doctor Who than we have ever seen before and this one-off special ended with a splendid scene in which he and Mars research station boss Adelaide (Lindsay Duncan) did verbal battle over the changes in his doomed personality.
Time Lord or not, he’s still a man, he didn’t stand a chance of winning that one.
FlashForward. (Five)
I quickly became disorientated by all the flashing backwards and forwards. Intend to keep trying but catnaps may prevail.
Strictly Come Dancing. (BBC1)
Bruce Forsyth was away last week. Flu.
Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman were more than adequate stand-ins despite the help of Ronnie Corbett.
Tuffers went: it was time anyway.
This week Ricky and Erin were out.
Old Bruce was back.
Ah well, you can’t win ‘em all.
Garrow’s Law. (BBC1)
Andrew Buchan (previously John Mercer, the 21st century Callan) is Garrow, a young and better looking Rumpole of the Bailey, in this 1700s historical drama .
I have recorded the first three of a four part series and have just started watching it. Have to say yet again that nobody produces better historical stuff than we do in this country.
It would be a shame if one little series was all there is to be of Garrow.
My Leader and I are already hooked.
The Queen in 3-D. (C4)
H.M. has turned up a couple of times this week.
Where the hell did we put our 3-D glasses?
Children in Need Rocks the Royal Albert Hall. (BBC1)
Every now and then television compensates for all the dross with a true showpiece. This musical assortment of gifted performers provided just that.
There was something for everyone and every fiver it obtained for the charity was thoroughly deserved.
Gary Barlow organised splendidly.
Oh, I’d have contributed just for Annie Lennox‘s performance.
Children In Need. (BBC 1)
I think this was the best of these jamborees we have been offered in a long time.
There was the usual collection of tame sketches, end-of-the-pier vocals and ‘we’re-not-just-soap-actor’ song and dance routines performed by well-meaning celebrities.
There was a great deal of Terry Wogan. (I tend to the view that Sir Terence should be like a television in the next room, heard and not seen.) And there was a great deal to enjoy. A lovely ’turn’ by the newsreaders, the children’s tv show characters doing their official single (courtesy of Peter Kay) and even dear old Richard Wilson saying: “I don’t believe it.”
Who could ask for anything more?
LISTENING.
Golden Memories.
My Leader found this four part CD set for me. It contains recordings by just about everyone from The Andrews Sisters to Frankie Vaughan via Ella Fitzgerald and Al Martino.
She has also presented me with a CD containing a splendid selection of poems with music…
Words For You.
The voices of Honor Blackman, Brian Cox, Joanna Lumley, Geoffrey Palmer and a host of other well-known actors reciting just about everyone from Betjeman to Wordsworth over a background of popular classical music.
Magic.
Who could ask for anything more?
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