Post 480. DEJA VOUS?

WITH NO HELP FROM THIS LITTLE GUY.

WE DID THE USUAL CHORES.
There followed a visit to St. Mary's Hospital, Newport, me for a blood test initiated by my oncologist: Mo as my constant companion and faithful driver. It has all happened before. It happened again this week: Monday: Mo waited in the car.
A nice young woman shepherded me through the blood test process. I was in and out in half an hour, thankful again for the kindness and competence of a, doubtless underpaid, hospital staff member who will, in the current (caring?) climate, be required to pay to park her car in the grounds of the very place where she does such valuable work. Don't talk NHS Trusts to me!
We had a good trip home in the 4pm traffic and, for a change (hollow laughter), watched:
TELEVISION.
Still OK for the news and weather, most of which is painfully believable.
The rest is a mishmash of predictable chat shows, quizzes, and reality rubbish. I sidestep much of it. Mo is more open-minded. Films save the day for me. Recently we saw Tom  Hanks and Mark Rylance in the 2015 film Bridge of Spies, directed by Steven Spielberg. Based on a  true story in the Hollywood sort of way: Well scripted. Well acted. Thought provoking. We also saw Angelina Jolie in a gloriously daft Maleficent film. Needs no thinking. Just sit back and enjoy it.

At home alone (generally when Mo has departed with a book or to a tea and cakes morning), I rely on compact disc or television recordings, and on YouTube. Nearly all classical stuff.

What's the point of growing old if you can't be a predictable bore? And know it. And not care.
THAT'S ABOUT ALL FOR NOW.
Oh, if the surge in the number of folk who looked at WATCHING last month was not an illusion, I wonder if I praised somebody whose huge fan club reads anything that mentions their star's name. Or whether I have somehow been mistaken for another writer entirely. Nice anyway.

A WEEK AWAY FROM THE START OF THE PROMS.

MORE THEN.