What I like about the television series 'The Darling Buds of May' is how everyone seems to be active and enjoying life all the time. There always seems to be something going on - you know, fruitful purpose and activity conducted in genial humour and gentle kindness, and the bucolic setting of the Garden of England helps enormously, too. Aah, the Kent countryside in the 1950s! Before the orchards and fields were grubbed up and eroded and filled with concrete 'pon which thousands and thousands of houses were built. Oh but stop me there - I don't want more accusations of being a Little Englander thrust upon me - I've had enough of those, thank you, ever since my thicky, bigoted brain made me vote to leave the EU three years ago and I happened to mention that I rather like Boris Johnson and think he'll make a good prime minister because at least he has a bit of oomph and personality. Sheesh...like how STUPID am I? Stupid enough to book a ticket to see Ann Widdecombe when she visits Drayton next February, that's how stupid. And I'm bloody well looking forward to it, too.
'The Darling Buds of May' - one of my 'go to' DVD box sets for when I'm in need of a spot of comfort and cheer. Well, it used to be before the DVD player that we used to have (and that I COULD work) gave up the ghost, making weird screeching and half-hearted spinning noises as it expired, and was replaced by the X-Box which I can't work. Another example of my inherent SBS, there. Stupid Brain Syndrome. Gaming consoles, it is my firm belief (and a lot of that belief is based on experience, too) make life unnecessarily complicated. In fact, and I've been doing a lot of thinking about this recently, a lot of life has become unnecessarily complicated because of modern media forms and technology.
My mobile phone, for example. Yes, I have one. It is an ancient Samsung Galaxy, at least 8 years old, I reckon. Three years ago, on the day before we moved to Shropshire, I topped it up with £20 just in case I met with some calamity on Moving Day, given it would be just me and Flora Bijou Mybug in the car and cats aren't great in a motoring emergency especially when they are already freaked out by being in a car in the first place and their only contribution to the journey was a lot of panting and a poo which required a stop at Clackett Services. Well, dear reader, I haven't topped up that phone since! That £20 is still going strong! I am rapidly coming to the conclusion I do not need a mobile phone. Well, I managed the first 32 years of my life without one.
My ipad, for another example. Oh, me and the ipad had serious words on Friday. In fact, I am surprised the ipad is still techno-intactus after Friday and not lying in a million shards on the floor against the wall towards which I threw it in a fit of pique. I was asked to do a spot of supply work next week, you see. Just three days, which I accepted because it would be a nice bit of extra cash to pay for the bedroom carpet which, despite having been ordered two weeks ago, is STILL in transit which I have interpreted as 'we forgot to order it....ooops' because it is only a bog standard wool mix carpet coming from barely 100 miles away and not a hand-tufted affair being imported from the Far East. (And breathe....)
Anyway, the acceptance of the supply work meant I had to be registered with Shropshire Council as 'casual supply.' Which meant form filling and sending evidence of an up-to-date DBS certificate etc etc blah blah blah. None of this 1950s, ' 'Ere, guv. Saw yer postcard in the window for a job. Can I have it? Good. Start tomorra? Luvverly jubbly.' (No idea why I went all Cockney there.) And oh, the aggravation I had filling in that form on-line. How I yearned for the days when you were given a paper application which you filled in with a pen and it was done, just so. I had to take myself off for a therapeutic walk and honeycomb ice-cream at Trentham Gardens when I had finished, I was that frazzled with it all.
And I am aware I am beginning to spend too much time with my ipad when I could and should be spending that time on something more fruitful and satisfying. Like a big fat peach. Flippin' heck, I'm having enough of a struggle maintaining a clear jawline as it is, without self-imposing a double turkey neck chin by constantly looking down at a media device. Look up, Denise! Look out!! Keep that chin firm and that neck skin smooth!!!
To that end, then, I have tanked myself up with meaningful activities of which Ma Larkin would approve wholeheartedly. I have bought enough wool to knit two jumpers. I have already knitted a saxe blue jumper and am very pleased with it, so have purchased wool in antique rose pink and a bright red (which my mother will HATE) so I can have two more of the same. I have purchased fabrics in pink and green in order to start crafting a hand sewn English Paper Piecing quilt for the bedroom. I might even have it completed before the carpet arrives, she said sarcastically. And I have stocked up with six novels of varying variety to motivate me back into the swing of doing some proper writing. The proper writing has been held up this last month because a) I have been wallpapering and painting the bedroom (sage green and leafy patterns) and b) overseeing the installation of two sets of cupboards by the front door, and jolly fab it all looks too.
Basically, then, today I mostly want to live in the 1950s. To move away from extraneous technology and all the news hoo-ha and social media fracas which sets off unnecessary arguments and makes people be horrid about each other, despite the 'fact' we are supposed to be living in a more tolerant society. To live a simpler, quieter, real life. To do more things of less complication. Like yesterday we went to see 'The Mousetrap' in the gorgeous Regent Theatre in Stoke. It was very civilised and calming and just lovely.
By the way, the murderer was the......
'The Darling Buds of May' - one of my 'go to' DVD box sets for when I'm in need of a spot of comfort and cheer. Well, it used to be before the DVD player that we used to have (and that I COULD work) gave up the ghost, making weird screeching and half-hearted spinning noises as it expired, and was replaced by the X-Box which I can't work. Another example of my inherent SBS, there. Stupid Brain Syndrome. Gaming consoles, it is my firm belief (and a lot of that belief is based on experience, too) make life unnecessarily complicated. In fact, and I've been doing a lot of thinking about this recently, a lot of life has become unnecessarily complicated because of modern media forms and technology.
My mobile phone, for example. Yes, I have one. It is an ancient Samsung Galaxy, at least 8 years old, I reckon. Three years ago, on the day before we moved to Shropshire, I topped it up with £20 just in case I met with some calamity on Moving Day, given it would be just me and Flora Bijou Mybug in the car and cats aren't great in a motoring emergency especially when they are already freaked out by being in a car in the first place and their only contribution to the journey was a lot of panting and a poo which required a stop at Clackett Services. Well, dear reader, I haven't topped up that phone since! That £20 is still going strong! I am rapidly coming to the conclusion I do not need a mobile phone. Well, I managed the first 32 years of my life without one.
My ipad, for another example. Oh, me and the ipad had serious words on Friday. In fact, I am surprised the ipad is still techno-intactus after Friday and not lying in a million shards on the floor against the wall towards which I threw it in a fit of pique. I was asked to do a spot of supply work next week, you see. Just three days, which I accepted because it would be a nice bit of extra cash to pay for the bedroom carpet which, despite having been ordered two weeks ago, is STILL in transit which I have interpreted as 'we forgot to order it....ooops' because it is only a bog standard wool mix carpet coming from barely 100 miles away and not a hand-tufted affair being imported from the Far East. (And breathe....)
Anyway, the acceptance of the supply work meant I had to be registered with Shropshire Council as 'casual supply.' Which meant form filling and sending evidence of an up-to-date DBS certificate etc etc blah blah blah. None of this 1950s, ' 'Ere, guv. Saw yer postcard in the window for a job. Can I have it? Good. Start tomorra? Luvverly jubbly.' (No idea why I went all Cockney there.) And oh, the aggravation I had filling in that form on-line. How I yearned for the days when you were given a paper application which you filled in with a pen and it was done, just so. I had to take myself off for a therapeutic walk and honeycomb ice-cream at Trentham Gardens when I had finished, I was that frazzled with it all.
And I am aware I am beginning to spend too much time with my ipad when I could and should be spending that time on something more fruitful and satisfying. Like a big fat peach. Flippin' heck, I'm having enough of a struggle maintaining a clear jawline as it is, without self-imposing a double turkey neck chin by constantly looking down at a media device. Look up, Denise! Look out!! Keep that chin firm and that neck skin smooth!!!
To that end, then, I have tanked myself up with meaningful activities of which Ma Larkin would approve wholeheartedly. I have bought enough wool to knit two jumpers. I have already knitted a saxe blue jumper and am very pleased with it, so have purchased wool in antique rose pink and a bright red (which my mother will HATE) so I can have two more of the same. I have purchased fabrics in pink and green in order to start crafting a hand sewn English Paper Piecing quilt for the bedroom. I might even have it completed before the carpet arrives, she said sarcastically. And I have stocked up with six novels of varying variety to motivate me back into the swing of doing some proper writing. The proper writing has been held up this last month because a) I have been wallpapering and painting the bedroom (sage green and leafy patterns) and b) overseeing the installation of two sets of cupboards by the front door, and jolly fab it all looks too.
Basically, then, today I mostly want to live in the 1950s. To move away from extraneous technology and all the news hoo-ha and social media fracas which sets off unnecessary arguments and makes people be horrid about each other, despite the 'fact' we are supposed to be living in a more tolerant society. To live a simpler, quieter, real life. To do more things of less complication. Like yesterday we went to see 'The Mousetrap' in the gorgeous Regent Theatre in Stoke. It was very civilised and calming and just lovely.
By the way, the murderer was the......
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