Though I told myself I wasn't going to use that word. Because what made me think of snow was remembering the time I was sitting there thinking how lovely, I think I'll stay here for a bit and instantly my spring day vanishes into a howling tempest. That's when I decided I would never ever sit out in the sun and declare it lovely. It was just asking for it.
Hanging out the washing is also asking for it, but that wasn't what began these musings, it was the obvious sun shower in Unit One (say hello to the man up the ladder with a hose) and the "Rain? What rain?" going on in Robin Hood. Which reminded me of the changeable weather in the midlands. Which I first thought of because it was pissing down when I left for work this morning, and now it is l... not raining.
It was rain that drove me inside. I was supposed to be working on the garden, and I was, watering, weeding, planting the pot-bound fern, trying to ignore the gentle rain of the plague of caterpillars from the trees. It was, well, you know, quite nice in the sunshine. Then there was no sunshine, and I was soaked, having had to run about in the downpour rescuing laundry and putting away tools.
So I spent the afternoon rugged up on the couch sulking and shivering (I was going to get online but everytime the thought occured a small storm skirted the back fence, so no). So I watched some Adam Adamant because I needed something silly and Bitish and black and white. More murderous villagers, and it's always funny how one could never entirely discount one's B&B hosts from being weekend satanists and the like. There's always the whiff of the Wicker Man about British villages, I find.
Then it was last week's Unit One. The one with the dead guy in the cage. Ah, bless Danish cop shows: when Fischer and La Cour go to pick up a witness they report that she was too stoned to be of any use. No beating about the bush with these guys. Poor Fischer's life is in tatters and he appears to be living out of his car (poor baby). Aparently La Cour's new domestic arrangements do not include Fischer. How unfair, after all those beach holidays.
Then I put on some Time Team while I ironed, folded and sorted. It was an old one and they were in Bath, and I remembered where they were and that there was a great cafe around the corner which made hamburgers just like the old cafe down the road at home (long since gone). To rub it in, they show up with coffees that could have only have been purchased in the cafe (the only for blocks). Still, that was fun, being somewhere I'd been for once, and I do love Bath. I harumphed when the archaeologist remarked casually that he'd just dug up a Roman pot in his garden - all I'd dug up that morning was one very large and angry spider.
Then I indulged in two episodes of the Tudors. I'd seen it before, and earlier that week, but it's more fun watching it and MST3King it, what with the Cardinal on Cardinal action (Sammy and the other fella having a childish tonsure pulling smackdown) and the divorce, which as catastrophic as it was, still has yet to achieve the levels of insanity of the Mills/McCartney one. JRM also seemed to have dipped into the Vivienne Westwood end of the wardrobe with a spotty chain mail collar number, but to my relief was back in the black leather in the very next scene. The spots did nothing for him, and the last thing the petulant tantrum prone young aristo needs is to start looking like he skins dalmatians in his spare time.
Oh yes, we were also treated to scenes of Harry penning his little ditty. "It's weird, but whenever I hum it, I think of icecream" the Peanut Gallery provides by way of obviously missing voice over. Maybe that's why he gets so fat, I chortle, though this will mean nothing to those in countries where ice cream trucks do not trundle about to that tinny tune (Greensleeves).
The other fun bit was the caption "The Midlands". Way to narrow it down. You don't want to go being too specific with the geography there. There was much guffawing and quoting of the MST3K's "Europe" (from Danger: Death Ray).
Meanwhile, in "The Midlands" was Robin Hood. I wasn't that chuffed with the episode before, because it reminded me of better Robin of Sherwood efforts, but this time around I was very happy with it. There was smouldering Guy, Allan so desperate to be on good terms with his ex best friend Will, poor Much so jealous of anyone and anything that takes Robin away from him - you can just see his little heart break at the news of the engagement. Lots of big clumsy foreshadowing in this episode too, with Guy stomping about muttering "One of these days, pow, right in the kisser". Bit annoyed at the way poor John, trying to remind them of the core mission rather than the big picture high powered politics that so consumes Robin, was belittled and made to appear foolish and unhelpful when, like Much, what he had to say was valid, but that's Robin Hood for you. Robin was just too smug lording it over Guy, but that's also Robin for you. Why Marian consistently choose Robin over Guy I'll never know. At least Guy has a heart (and hot leather). Guy, at least, was willing to choke on his extraordinarily fragile pride and do what needed to be done, even though he faltered on occassion, which to my mind made him far more heroic and human than smug Robin (witness how blithely unaware he is of Much's broken heart, or unconcerned with Marian's immediate danger).
Second time around, I liked this a lot, though. It could have been so much better (the panto antics of Keef always bring it back to the kiddies show that it is), but it'll do.
Also had on Brideshead Revisted (classic!) for a bit and some production of Swan Lake, just because it was pretty (and there were some firm young gentlemen in the dance company).
Maybe next Sunday if it's wet I can indulge in Brideshead and some Robin of Sherwood (though too much of young Mr Grace might be considered a health hazard).
Oops. Did it again. Popped out at luch and thought: how nice, I might pop across to the park and...(cue dark gathering clouds, gale forces winds and teeming downpours all before the traffic light changes).
All of which brings to mind one of my favourite passages from Mr Adams:
Rob McKenna was a miserable bastard and he knew it because he’d had a lot of people point it out to him over the years and he saw no reason to disagree with them except the obvious one which was that he liked disagreeing with people, particularly people he disliked, which included, at the last count, everybody...
It wasn’t that he was naturally predisposed to be so surly, at least he hoped not. It was just the rain that got him down, always the rain...
Rob McKenna had two hundred and thirty-one differently types of rain entered in his little book, and he didn’t like any of them...
And as he drove on, the rain clouds dragged down the sky after him for, though he did not know it, Rob McKenna was a Rain God. All he knew was that his working days were miserable and he had a succession of lousy holidays. All the clouds knew was that they loved him and wanted to be near him, to cherish him and to water him.
Just checked, yes it is sunny and clear again, even though I am soaked here (and under an air conditioning vent, yippee, hello pneumonia my old friend...). Well, as the network drives are down today, time to piss off early and go home to fluffy blankies, warm laptops and a nice hot cup of tea.
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