mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

living in the 70s

Firstly, I'd like to start off in praise of of new washing machine (pic by the peanut gallery). Ours is the love that dare not speak its name. It's changed my life. All my life I've coveted a proper, grown up washing machine and now I finally have one. And it's everything I imagined it would be. Certainly I got a few dollar's worth out of it on Saturday morning (early) when I took Friday night's load out, pegged it up, chucked in another load and went back to bed for another hour's kip and dreams of Jonas. Bliss.

Ah, Jonas. Second to last episode of Ghost Squad so he was sneaky, pouty, concerned and effing up big time Pete, but pretty all the time while angsting away in squalid back alleys and in not so sekrit surveillance cars. I wonder if Poor Pete sits there all day by himself, angsting away, pumping it out into the ether. Just a waste. The poor lad really needs a hobby.

Meanwhile Robin was busy being a complete prat, when he wasn't being an utter, utter bastard (too painful to watch poor Much's heart just break) over on the last episode of Robin Hood. Marian is still way too shrill and bossy (ppor heartbroken Guy dodged a bullet there, methinks) and why would you choose a petulant sulky bollocks slacker over Mr Looks Good In Leather anyway is beyond me, but there you go. I mean, Jonas is pretty, but Robin is just..just...he needs a good slapping, is what it is.

Also watched the last episode of S1 Life on Mars. Bad Aunty for not playing S2. So that means either stay away from t'internet or download it, then, lest you be spoiled in casual conversation. This time 'round I was a little tired and distracted, so not as into it as before but, incredibly, I was still noticing new stuff or seeing stuff differently. Ah, for when it was a show of many layers and angles and not all pratfalls and jokes about sex with sheep. And as for not being able to get out of '73, what sort of a crap time lord are you?

Speaking of which, Doctor Who. Not only did I watch the Shakespeare one on telly (which all the jokes really groan worthy second time around but Dean is still the Smexy) but also the Family of Blood (and peanut gallery entirely missed that it was young Will Scarlet all gone evil, possibly because poor Harry never gets lines in t'other show). Harry was a bit OTT evil, and the creeepy scarecrows and the creepy girl with red balloon was perhaps overegging it just a tad (oh, for the days of yore when the Beeb budget only stretched to one creepy motif and they had to make do and milk it for all it was worth). It's curious that a show that had so many of my buttons (evil school kids, creepy old house, creepy scarecrows, etc) should fail to actually get off the launchpad so to speak. Maybe I was just tired and distracted. I did appreciate the Neil Gaimaness of it all, even if it failed to really move me (the soundtrack going off synch during the big John Smith doesn't want to die bit probably didn't help either, damn Nero/crap dvd/crap dvd player, but I'm sure it was more poignant in the original Bulgarian - well it looked like we were suddenly in a foreign film - again).

I was also a bit annoyed at the whole IT'S THE WAR, STUPID cues hidden subtlely within the narrative. Okay, perhaps some folk need to be beaten about the head and shoulders to get it, but you know, got it, thanks, really. Possibly this was because there was a play here called The One Day of The Year which accused those as ever evil baby boomers or not caring, so I, poor gen-xer, had to endure being bombarded, for want of a better word, all things ANZAC, Gallipoli and WWI from Frank Hurley's pics to Bean's history to journals, letters, war memorial visits and even being made to watch Gallipoli at gunpoint (well, not quite, but it wasn't voluntary, much like the whole WWI conscription issue which tore the nascent Labor party apart...). But I digress. The point it, I get it. Liked the falling scarecrows very much, very Gallipoli, but the whole cenotaph scene was just a little, well, a little too MESSAGE, even though it was a worthy one.

I guess it's a cultural thing. Kids here aren't allowed to forget (lest there be a flurry of letters to the editor) and young kiddies here would get it, I'm sure. But perhaps it's different in the UK. Certainly the crew all needed lining up and slapping when they kept complaining that their 'Somme' location was all rain soaked and muddy. Not like the real thing at all then (give me strength).

But what I watched and really, really loved this weekend was The Protectors. Ah, it was like finding what's been missing in my life. Yes, it's cheesy and more often than not we were rolling around laughing at characters flaunting yellow shirt/purple tie/blue suede shoes combos or fawning over globular 70s tellies and the like, but it's so much fun. Especially as I've worn out my Dept S/Jason King dvds. Let me just say this: Robert Vaughn, Gerry Anderson, Brian Clemens, 1971. Throw in Stephanie Beacham, Patrick Troughton, George Baker (etc., so far), locations (including a car chase on a road featured in an oft repeated episode of Top Gear which bemused us) and it has all halmarks of a classic slice of late 60s/early 70s silliness, if you're into that sort of thing, which I am, big time. Think Dept S/Persuaders.

The funniest scene so far, the one that had us crying, was Robert Vaughn sitting down oh so gingerly onto a fine example of bad 70s vinyl furniture. Sadly it takes experience of bad 70s vinyl furniture to realise that particular manouvere was designed to avoid the loud whoopee cushion noise those sofas/chairs made if you sat on them too fast, at the wrong angle, or at all, really (we had one that really used to blow very loud rasperries and I jumped on it rather too much as a small child, for that very reason). Okay, so you had to be there but we were wheezing away.

Too bad then that one of the pursed rellies chose that moment to walk in, while we were sprawled about with cups of tea laughing like chimps at bad 70s telly. Talk about Captain Buzzkill. And it was so unfair because we'd been up since five washing, downloading, gardening, shopping and all sorts and this, being 3pm and traditionally tea time anyway, was the first time we'd sat down at all. But still with the beady eye to the jobs yet done (like the crap on the dining room table). Grrr.

Oh well. Also managed to see bits of Top Gear last night (wot an effort: work, hospital visit, shopping, tea, top gear, washing up). It wasn't a great episode so I didn't mind missing the bulk of it too much. And yes, tea was just tinned soup and toasted Turkish bread, but nobody cooks on Top Gear night - grin. Later, I fell asleep during Torchwood - mercifully.

The Protectors is also a bad influence because while I was out shopping I bought a long fringey hippy coat that I've long (looong) since coveted. It was new, in the fat chicks shop, unwanted and on sale because obviously no fat chicks aside from me have a sense of humour (actually true, which is why none of them are still speaking to me) and it was love at first sight and as I had no nag with me I bought it and wore it home and am wearing it now. Very Jo Grant (and funnily enough the only person to ever did my wardrobe was Ms Manning herself, back when she was out here and we were on shouting and waving aquaintance at cons).

Also bought, wickedly, I know, But I was on a roll (free at last, etc) a top that may, in the cruel taunts of a colleague, cause seizures. It's very, very 1971 and very, very loud and I love it, also.

I probably should ease up on the early 70s telly,but nup, not gonna, especially as it's so much fun. And is it my fault that 1971/1981 are de rigour in the shops at the moment, and I ain't doing 1981 again, so 1971 it is :)

The Protectors in The Florian, Venice (being wildly overcharged for a cup of coffee, nae doot).
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Tags: david tennant, department s, doctor who, jason king, life on mars, robert vaughn, robin hood, the protectors, top gear

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