Post 467. BRIGHT, WINDY DAYS.

 WITH ONLY CATS AND FIDDLE-FADDLE

TO DISTRACT ME.
If I was a disciplined professional I might have written the opening chapters of a whodunit in the time it has taken me to start this post. The spirit has been willing: the muse, weak.

I have fussed around; feeding cats, making cups of coffee and tea, emptying the letter box, skipping through past blog posts, and handling routine chores. I have also fallen asleep with the cat Angel on my lap at around half past four every afternoon (even the annual buggering about with the clocks has not changed that). I have simply lacked the drive to shove a few words onto a computer screen. Sadly, my inhibition has not been helped by my current book of choice, Philip Pullman's Daemon Voices on stories and story telling. Sir Philip is unlikely ever to see this.

But what if somebody draws his attention to it because his name has been mentioned? Will he be disinclined to excuse grammatical malfeasance by a writer who has a collection of his books? 

I fear so. And the end of the month is upon us.  
So it is deadline time again for Den Barnden: Watching. 

Who says so? I do: and I'm the editor.

My grammar may not be pristine, but I'm a tough editor.
Chance academic criticism.

Publish and be damned!

Good day one and all.

    

Post 466. THE PIANO

ON TELEVISION.

DID YOU SEE IT?
It was a Love Production for Channel 4, presented by Claudia Winkleman, and 'a must' for any lover of the piano like me, a non player, whose childhood piano lessons got as far as Drink To Me Only with both hands before the discovery that I was reading the music from the numbers printed on the notes, rather than on their position on the score, brought an abrupt end to my tuition. Nobody had mentioned that the numbers were only a basic beginner's guide, I can still start DTMO with both hands, but probably not finish it. Bit like the lessons really. Ah well.
Back to The Piano.
 Amateur pianists were invited to play pianos sited on railway station platforms at St. Pancras in London, at Leeds, at Glasgow. and in Birmingham. Unbeknown to them they were being watched by the renowned performers Lang Lang and Mika who invited all of them to be spectators at a special concert to take place in the Royal Festival Hall, and who chose one of them from each group to play at the concert.
The chosen four were: Jay (25) from the Isle of Wight (winner at St. Pancras), Lucy (13) from West Yorkshire (winner at Leeds), Sean (27) from Edinburgh (winner at Glasgow), and Danny (26) from Manchester (winner at Birmingham). All were delighted to be chosen.
As is always the case in television, some dickhead in power insisted there be a winner because that's what the public wants/needs/expects.
So, come the performance, the ultimate accolade was given to  Lucy, whose performance of a Debussy Arabesque was beautiful, touching, and entirely worthy of the standing ovation she was given at its conclusion. Lucy is blind and neurodivergent, and everybody loved her.
But every one of the chosen finalists was a winner.
Did you see it? If you are in any way a piano lover it really was the best reality television so far this year. A welcome change from cooks, twaddle talkers, and junk dealers, too.
Well done all concerned.
BUT HERE THEY GO AGAIN.

THE STUDIED COMPLAINANTS.
Other than condoning change for the sake of it, why would any English speaking person heed the latest problematizing of our language, Oxfam's Inclusive Language Guide? 
Oxfam staff are apparently being urged to amend what we dinosaurs used to think of as 'plain English' (e.g. mother and father are out, parent is in). For what misbegotten reason?
Don't ask me. Ask Oxfam or any other of the studied complainants. They will find an abundance of reasons: anything from colonialism to disablism to  racism to sexism (not forgetting - never forgetting - anti Semitism). Give 'em the nod and they'll all moan together. It's a mad world.
And I've probably offended enough people for now.
Back before the month is out.

Post 465. STILL TAKING IT EASY

 WELL, WHY NOT?

WHEN YOU HAVE A BUDDY LIKE THIS,
It has been gradual but inexorable, the cat Angel's decision to befriend me. I put it down to our old pal Shadow's influence. He, as any regular reader of this blog will know, was my constant companion for many years, and his spirit still strongly exists here. At an early age I was firmly advised by my father that I should not believe in ghosts. "If you can't see it, it ain't there." Perhaps as a consequence, I have never seen a ghost. Ghosts are for people who want to see them.
But I do believe in spirits: for all, not just human, creatures. So I believe the spirit of the cat Shadow, along with that of our dear Roz (who would have celebrated her fifty third birthday last Sunday), are still here with us, and will be until we, too, become spirits. I'm happy with that.
ENDEAVOUR.
So that's it then. No more real ale, Times crossword, and elderly Jaguar cars. No more unfathomable (other than by our hero) murder mysteries and obscure classical music.
No more dah dah, dah dah dah, dit dah dit, dit dit dit, dit.
Or, for those not familiar with the code, no more Morse.
The last Endeavour episode did occasionally present as a tortuous attempt to tie up all the loose ends. Those who saw the last episode of Game of Thrones will know what I mean. But this was saved (as has often been the way) by the credibility of the entire cast. A wonderful team effort.
We saw it right through and then watched the denouement where cast members from every adaptation (Morse, Lewis, Endeavour) got together for the final farewell. Fascinating. Who would have imagined that Shaun Evans (Morse) has a north country accent, that Sara Vickers (Miss Thursday) is a Scot, or that Sean Rigby (DS Jim Strange in Endeavour) would one day become James Grout (Chief Superintendent Strange in Morse). Ah well: all good things...

GARY LINEKER.

I don't know the man. I have not been a football fan since the glory days of  1948/49 Pompey  I think every celebrity (however well meaning) should take a breath before spouting in public.
But so, I believe, should every touchy race, creed, or clique that leaps to take offence on their own or another's behalf  no matter how tenuous the connection.  Give us a break. Shut up. 
And let Gary Lineker continue to enjoy freedom of speech. After taking a breath, eh?

Even if he never did play for Pompey.

Keep warm. Keep safe.    

Post 464. TAKING IT EASY.

IN THE USUAL WAY.

WATCHING TELE TECS.
Endeavour is with us again. Hooray!
Shaun Evans as Endeavour Morse and Roger Allam as DCI Thursday, together with the same superbly chosen cast of fellow actors, are back on ITV1 for Series 9. Loose ends are being tied up and character development clarified. Shaun Evans' Endeavour has been a fitting tribute to the late John Thaw's older Morse, and Roger Allam's  Fred Thursday will always be one of my favourite television coppers: I have known a lot of  policemen over the years and he epitomizes the best of every old-fashioned one of them. I'll say no more or he may have to take his hat off.
This is a very short (three episode) series and, sad to report, will be the last ever. So the final appearance (other than repeats) of the late Colin Dexter's popular characters will take place next Sunday evening. If you want to see it, be there, as  Home Office pathologist Max DeBryn (James Bradshaw) might advise, at: "Shall we say eight o'clock?
Unforgotten is back on ITV1. (Or the entire series 5 can be viewed on ITVX.) It is not really a spoiler if I reveal that Sunny (Sanjeev Bhaskar) is sadly missing last boss Cassie (Nicola Walker) who died in a car crash at the end of series 4, and is thoroughly detesting new boss Jessica ("Call me Guv") James, played by Sinead Keenan. Every leading character in the story has 'at home' problems which, to my simple mind, is more than I have ever needed to know about a copper, fictional or not, but the acting is brilliant throughout and we shall enjoy every moment of it.

 Apologies if you are not a fan of the television detective genre.

And no, I wouldn't sack Gary Lineker.
Whatever happened to free speech?

That's all of mine for now.