Okay, so rainy Friday, I was knackered so it was the pilot episode of Primeval. Loved it. I can see why RTD was all whine, piss, vinegar, take my ball and go home (heh heh heh). It is good. Really good, and it totally pisses on Torchwood - from a very great height.
So we have Douglas, sporting an actual Scottish accent which I'd not heard before, but love, and hot Dougie at that, we have the bit of pretty from last week's Marple playing the competent one (and Doug's slashy offsider), and Andrew playing yet another geek, only even more dorky than on Strange and, oh well, a few chicks, each of them seemingly stuck on the hotness that is Henshall like velcro, and who can blame them. Oh yeah, and big scary dinosaurs lumbering through a wormhole thingy, which is also kinda cool. It's like that dinosaur episode of Doctor Who, only slightly less rubbery (and I said slightly, the cgi'd Rex looks more Fraggle than dino, to me, imho). Oh yes, cutsey dino pal - be warned.
But what a pilot - some genuinely classically scary moments (I mean when I went out to feed mince to my tame crow with the dickie wing and he bounced through the tree shaking leaves and branches I felt a prickle, so actual moments of skin tingle there), and there's some necessary estrangement angst for Cutter (Hottie Henshall) and the rest of the team are sorting themselves out but in cute clumsy Scooby way, not the 'my eyes, my eyes' hideousness of Torchwood. (Cutter+Hart=OTP)
I really, really liked it. They are making more, aren't they? Please tell me they're making more. Loved it to bits.
Then, by the very kind generosity of a friend, I finally got to see the much discussed Top Gear Goes To America episode. Snort. Wheeze. Well, yes. Indeed. Heh.
The rest of the weekend was pretty much taken up with UKTV's Murder Mystery weekend, which crammed the weekend full of stuff like D&P, Inspector Lynley, various Sherlocks, more murders in Midsomer than was decent, etc. I managed to tape Richard Coyle in D&P, James McAvoy in Inspector Lynley, Michael Fassbender in Sherlock Holmes and the Silk Stocking and Gerard Butler in The Jury. I probably could have done more (I missed Patrick Baladi in MM) but I was out a lot and sleeping a lot, too (second easter in a row full of UKTV and me lying all wan and wasted and loaded to the gills on mersyndols).
I also had to work on the stand at the show again. All rather pointless now, of course, but never let it be said that I shirked my duty as the ship went down (glug, glug, glug). That bloody model, though: pissed water everywhere. I was soaked by evening's end. Fortunately a co-worker brought his kid along and, feeling too crampy to care about child labour laws , i set her to work, and besides she was a real little trasure and she did the bulk of my moppimng and demonstrations for me while I, er, supervised. Yes, that's it, 'supvervision'. (Not my fault, the cramps hit half an hour before my shift, dammit).
I actually ended up babysitting the wee sprog while her parental unit went off to do some prolonged shopping. Why folks entrust their kids to me when I wouldn't trust myself with a pet rock I'll never understand. But it was fun, we muddled through and I got to go have my own wander later. That's what you want on these things, a good stand buddy who'll turn a blind eye to protracted tea/loo breaks, not some nazi with a stopwatch and clipboard.
So I saw my favourite stalls, and the art works, of which there were many. Loved the paintings. Hardly of those hideous 80s-90s glops of paint. Thank frell that fad is over. Lots of really, lovely creative and just damn beautiful works. Beauty is back, at least in oils and watercolours.
Bought the showbags which were requested of me, which was a good thing because the family just took them off me at the door and left me in the dark to make my own tea and hot water bottle. Bastards. And I was all damp and tired and way crampy.
At least on Monday I was rewarded with Jonas on the cover of the guide in the Herald (on next Sun, which means I'll miss Jonas and Doug, whimper). The same old BBC shot (come on, Beeb, what is with this only ever releasing three publicity shots per show?) but still, better than nowt.
I must apologise here for not finishing fic, getting stuff posted, replied to etc. Everything is all ahoo and I'm supposed to be all organised right now but between hormones and hideous upheaval, well, it's just all gone to hell in a handbasket.
I did however manage to get my hair done, at the local place for a third of the price but twice the job of the posh salon so that was something, (insert comments about silk purses, sows ears and mutton and lamb here) and I have a new coat at last. It's not waterproof or warm at all (this is too much to ask for these days) but it's all they had so that's that. I'd rather old faithful but old faithful fell apart on me in Hong Komg (and it was all that was holding me up at the time), so I'm stuck with horrid new coat.
And it has obviously fake fur trim, at least, and not the actual cat fur that my cheap gloves have (sold to me as fake but it's so obviously puddy tat, upon closer inspection). I love those gloves, though. Not only are they good gloves but whenever anyone starts banging on about how much they love cats I just bring out my cheap Chinese ex-cat gloves and tell them so do I, Cruella style, and with any luck they burst into tears and run away. Mwahahaha! (Would that I could do the same to scare off parents who keep foisting their offspring on me, because really, I wouldn't, perhaps I should get planning permission for a gingerbread house).
Hey, I was at an agricultural show that features a rather unsentimental hoof to hook display, if you think I'm being awful. Or, to quote the great H.G.: "This is what we do down here. We grow things. We kill them. Then we eat them. If you want some, get in the queue and if you don't like it, bugger off."
It's that kind of town. And I did see lotsa cows and sheep, etc, but I only ate oysters and a big chocolate milkshake, which I was praying to stay down, I can tell you. Oh yeah, and cheese on a stick. I had cheese on a stick for tea, but I skipped the fairy floss, you'll be pleased to know.
So that was my weekend: meat, murder, farmyard animals, dinosuars, rain, perversions, pop music, ferris wheels, fairy floss, brit boys and milkshakes and lots of blood and drugs and chocolate. And you want me to make some sort of sense? Alas, not today. Maybe not ever. I've lost my job and right now I do not want to care. I just want a hot water bottle and another cup of tea.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention the big ol' rock festival that was going on pretty much over my back fence. Too bad it rained most of the time or I'd have been out on the veranda having a listen, but there was probably just a bit too much white boy reggae, anyway. Imho, anyway.
I did love the wall to wall Brit telly, though. It helped a lot. Because I'm not happy. Not at all.
Boys in the hood
Robin in da' hood
Yes, milk comes from a cow - and so does a sirloin
"Landscape With Weapon" Press Photocall (Hollander & Rhind-Tutt)
BBC Top Gear in US TV deal talks
Clarkson earns wrath of a nation by smashing up Malaysian car
Malaysia lambasts Top Gear host
Prince Harry's new tennis partner - a portly Jeremy Clarkson
Oscar, schmoscar ...
Russell T Davies talks about moving on from Doctor Who
Naked fears for David Wenham
David Wenham fit for Spartan role
Midlife crisis averted
The Year the Pie and Coffee Ran Out
Invasion of the superheroes
Spider-Man 3 set for NY premiere
I'm Drunk And Naked On MySpace!
Australia set to score $150m deal for war epic
Local author is the No. 1 authority in the "Star Trek" universe
John Waters brings his singular strangeness to Court TV
'War of spin' over Alfred's burnt cakes
10 o'clock news replaced by porn
Brain's reaction to stress may harm heart
Show and Sell
Forest of Dean
Now you see it: forgotten magic manual contains original da Vinci code
Wednesday: yesterday was truly dire. It was cold and damp, and my new coat has nothing to say against either. Still retrenched, still with the punitive boss who made me stand up all afternoon when I'd just walked back to my desk with a cup of tea and a hot water bottle so obviously not happy there. Everyone is yelling at me, that weekend spent really cleaning the kitchen was entirely wasted as the monsters have returned it to its normal state of disgrace and the roaches are back. Last night I finally got home, grinding tired, to find tea consisted of boiled cannon shot that called itself brussel sprouts and my package from Amazon, my last order, had finally arrived but some truck had backed over it for there was a tire tread running down the back and my dvd box sets were reduced to shrapnel (no Sam Troughton for me, obviously). Wail!
There was only one thing for it: a hot cup of tea and an easter egg. Fortunately ze truck had missed ze little brown packages so I could console myself with Doctor Who, Primeval, Heroes et al (Thank you!). Could have thrown in Life on Mars, but I got a bit too tired, but what a wonder to be able to stay up all night watching British SF (the way nature intended). Primeval I just watched again cause I wanted to. Heroes featured Eccles and he delighted me by dropping the f word (fantastic!) and I'm not entirely sure that wasn't a shoutout, but never mind. I can't work out if his accent is meant to be Salford, some sort of Yank or something in between, though. It seems to wander all over the shop, or it could be just the noisy neighbourhood (gunshots, domestics, etc) affecting my ability to pin it down.
Doctor Who, in which they kill Evil Stig (and Evil Stig redux), the harmless old biddy turns out to be the evil straw sucking alien (oh, that old gag, yawn) and we're introduced to yet another Spice Girl with the Eastenders entourage (for fek's sake, write Corro or Doctor Who but not both). Yeah, I'm kinda over the whole running about madly in lieu of a plot, even though I realise it's a staple of the series, but the old episodes used to have plot. I know they did, I've seen the dvds.
So the story sucked but David was absolutely gorgeous, which makes up for a lot, a hell of a lot. He's carrying the whole show, I tell ya, the dear boy. Thanks to David I still found a lot to love about the episode, but it was all him.
That's what I like about Primeval, it's not as smugly self aware and just so bloody pleased with itself like DW, Torchwood or LOM S2. That whole 'look at me, aren't I clever' vibe they've got going just gets on my tits, quite frankly. But not dear Primeval. It's cute, but early Buffy cute. And you know what I said about Nick and Stephen (sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G), well, I think that SAS dude might have been secretly collecting curtain swatches too, just a bit. It's the everyone loves Nick show. Not sure why - maybe it's the Scotish accent. But it's cute.
Ultimate Force turned out to be Wannabes, which annoyed me no end as I thought it was the last episode so I set it to go off LP, not SP. Bugger. Still, as I said, Richard is very pretty in that.
Funnily enough, after thinking about Red Dwarf I must have summoned it, because it was on next. How tired and unfunny it looks now. Sigh.
There was another Robin Hood article in today's Tele, but it has yet to make it to the online edition. It's the same as the Courier Mail article, anyway. This, at least, I am looking forward, even if I do have to watch poor Much get his heart broken again. Whimper.
At least tonight features Blackpool. More David Tennant. The boy is mighty fine.