HOME.
When is an e-mail an eye-opener?
In an exchange of e-mails leaked - what a meaningful word that is nowadays - to the County Press, Isle of Wight MP Andrew Turner has been accused by Tory Councillor Edward Giles of lying and stirring trouble in his handling of issues involving the Isle of Wight Council.
In previous posts I have expressed my opinion of the Tory MP; it has not been flattering and it has not altered. If, however, he has somehow publicised the fact that Island bus fares are appallingly high, Island highways are appallingly ill-kept and Island administration is an appalling shambles, he will have told nothing but the truth: a rarity in any politician.
As for Mr. Giles…Cabinet member for environment, transport and corporate services? Where the hell does he think he’s coming from?
For that matter, where the hell do any of these little upstarts think they’re coming from? And which bright spark first suggested it would be a good idea to adorn them with mock-parliamentary titles?
Surely all of us would be better served if they remembered they are simply local councillors, dropped the pretence of being something more - they’re not - and refrained from throwing their toys out of the pram at the slightest hint of criticism, from whatever source.
The Council and Tory group leader (don’t ask, but I think that used to be the chairman)) was reported as saying: “Clr Giles was articulating the administration’s view,” by which I take it he meant saying what we wanted him to say.
Mr. Turner might live to regret upsetting such sensitive party pigmies.
I wouldn’t let it bother me.
They are there to serve, not rule.
And if they don’t know the difference they should get the hell out of it.
When is a poem not…?
Poetry Week 2010 has come and gone but the 2010 National Poetry Competition is still open for entries; closing date 31st October.
Just in passing I mentioned it to the cat Shadow.
“You’re a bit of a poet,” I said. “Might suit you,”
His demeanour suggested a shrug. (How does he do that?)
“No way, mate,” he said. “I’ve read the spring 2010 issue of Poetry Review and I wouldn’t stand a chance. My poems rhyme.”
Know what he means.
But I thought it was worth a try.
The Flu Jab Club.
Lord how fast a year passes! We have just held the Flu Jab Club AGM again. No minutes. No agenda. Simply four friends strolling from the surgery to a popular local tea shop for light refreshment and an hour of small town gossip while they recover from the non-ordeal of a two second flu jab.
There is talk that next year the jab could be replaced by a patch.
The Flu Jab Club will then become The Flu Patch Club.
We shan’t vote on the change of name.
AND AWAY.
254 OBA Reunion 2010.
This year the reunion was held at Ramada Tamworth Hotel and was quite well supported considering the hotel is a ten mile, £30, taxi journey from Tamworth railway station.
We journeyed up by car on Friday 1st. October and it rained heavily throughout the entire trip. At times spray from fast moving cars and large vehicles blinded following traffic in all three lanes and every direction sign on the motorway was obscured. The lion’s share of our driving was undertaken by friend Jim Jenkins who drove us from his home near Salisbury. I only had to get our car to his place and that was enough for me.
It was good to see many familiar faces again, though a couple of my closest boyhood friends did not make it: one of them has all but given up driving now and the other’s wife was indisposed. Age catches up and eventually overtakes us all.
The Ramada Tamworth is far out in the country, half a mile from Appleby Magna (a village so charming and English I half expected to see Margaret Rutherford riding through it on a tricycle), so anybody without wheels will not even get there. But our room was comfortable, the meals were good and friendly staff provided an excellent service throughout our stay.
Bad weather also blighted the return journey, but a stop-off at Oxford, for lunch with daughter Jac, considerably sweetened the pill.
We arrived home swearing - there was a definite blue haze around me - never to undertake such a journey in such weather again and convinced (no matter what the earnest advocates of Open The Nation’s Doors To All may preach to the contrary) that England is now far too full of people and its roads are a bloody nightmare.
TELEVISION.
New Tricks. (BBC1)
They’re back again. Just as welcome and homely and reliable.
Dennis Waterman still comes across as your typical bloke next door, James Bolam remains that reserved chap who carefully makes up his mind before he accepts you and Alun Armstrong continues to be the nice fellow who randomly chats to you in the supermarket.
James Bolam’s real life wife, Susan Jameson, is still Brian Lane’s (Alun Armstrong) long suffering wife Esther - a woman with whom one cannot help but sympathise - and Amanda Redman is still the female boss accepted by even the most chauvinistic male.
Series Seven and it could run forever.
Strictly Come Dancing. (BBC1)
Celebrities who quickly become dancers. Celebrities who cannot and never will become dancers. Token joke entrant. Beautiful costumes. Great orchestra and chorus. Tireless professional dancers, Tiresome old compere.
No change here then.
Downton Abbey. (ITV1)
Put the glorious Maggie Smith (at her most imperious as Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham), and believable Hugh Bonneville (as her son Robert, Earl of Grantham), together with a stellar cast including the likes of Jim Carter and Penelope Wilton and you can be assured of a dependable upstairs downstairs drama. This one is written by Julian Fellowes who appears to have set it in the next property along from Gosford Park.
Where would we be without the costume crowd on a Sunday evening?
Harry and Paul. (BBC2)
Was disappointed with their last effort and cannot take to this one. Never mind, I doubt they will notice my absence from their viewing public.
Ask Rhod Gilbert. (BBC1)
Why?
RADIO.
Golden Oldies.
Still in search of the perfect replacement for Wogan, I was directed to Angel Radio, Isle of Wight which turns out to be a non-stop collection of truly old recordings. Some of them, by almost forgotten singers like Malcolm Vaughan for example, are gems. Many of them are thirties dance band dross which was the forever background to our before-television thirties lives.
Apart from the gems I can’t say I miss any of it.
READING.
M.C. Beaton.
Have read Agatha Raisin and the Vicious Vet and Agatha Raisin and the Potted Gardener. Again good, easy reading; though the gardener takes quite a long time to pot.
Now I am following the enthusiastic sleuth’s adventure with the Walkers of Dembley. Eclectic cast are in thrall to the frequently formidable, strangely likeable Agatha.
Me too.
Back after the walk.
No comments:
Post a Comment