Still, between Maverick (weekdays) and The Saint (weekends), Fox Classics is ensuring that I never have to go more than twenty four hours without a Roger Moore fix, which is a mighty fine thing. Especially b/w Roger, when he was ever so pretty.
Can't tell you about House or Life last night, I'm afraid. Nana was napping and I left my machines to watch for me. Hopefully they did and I can watch it back on the weekend. But if not it's kinda like shrug. I mean, you know I love Hugh Laurie but House often leaves me cold, especially when it really hoists itself up on the old soapbox. It's like watching an old Quincy episode, only slighty less shouty. And Life? I love Damian so much, but, well, I like Life, and if it was on earlier it's be grand, but it's on just a bit too late for so slight a show. It's like, I'm tired, I'm grumpy, if I'm staying up I want more bang for my buck, you know? So I enjoy it more when I watch it on Sunday evening. I just do (and I don't have to be grumpy that I stayed up for such lame jokes).
Of course, it's not on all that late, it's just that the 4am starts are starting to really burn, you know? They were impossible when I was 18, they hurt considerably more so now. Wish I could sleep in, but the complete lack of transport in my area makes that impossible. And I don't wanna move, even if the neighbours did cut down the enormous bottlebrush tree which I (and the lorikeets) adored, and I now have an unimpeded view of Mr Fat Angry Hairy Biker and his speedos as I wash up the dishes. As if life wasn't Jimmy McGovern grim enough, I ask you.
Speaking of McGovern, that's what I think I was trying to say about Being Human. It's like Buffy, as written by Jimmy McGovern. Well, I think it is, anyway. And I must admit by the finish I was smitten with Mitchell II. I liked the twitchy old Mitchell, but Aidan, he's pretty hot, ya gotta admit.
And George, licky, over excitable probably pees on the carpet when he really gets overwhelmed puppyish George. I liked the way that the constant comments about him being a bad dog by the vamps (which probably do count as racist slurs) actually had a point. George is a good dog. A loyal dog. So don't eff with his beloved Mitchell. Don't make George angry, you wouldn't like him if you made him angry (heh, there was a lot of that in there, too).
Speaking of pets, I appear to have a new fat, frumpy, grumpy and seriously, seriously unco galah as a familiar. I think they count as pets if they come to the back door demanding feeding, turning their noses up at my offerings and getting impatient, strutting up and down and hissing and bitching until I finally deliver up what they want. The peanut gallery said the huffy impatience of the galah as I struggled to unwrap the seed bell was a sight to behold.
Oh, and some new magpies have moved in, a different mob to my old family, whom I miss terribly. I'm trying not to encourage them too much but my reputation precedes me and they know my name and have my number.
Why is American rap always about gangsters, guns, whores and violence, yet Aussie rap tends to wax lyrical about scallops at the local chip shop or the joys of summer music festivals, real bush ballad stuff. I usually loathe rap/hiphop but the local stuff, the whimsy, it makes me smile.
Re last night's feverish dream, it's a hills hoist, not a silver tree, you silly boy, but tidy work in giving a Susan Cooper spin to some truly banal and less banal recent events, like the silver coin I picked up in York, and that creepy little museum in London. It's all good stuff I can use later. And what the by heck is a wassail cup? Oh. Okay. Shrug. Clearly I must have staggered past one in my travels, somewhere, sometime.
Fri: Okay, now it's a case of what show am I watching, because last night's episode of Maverick was so much a Saint episode. I know Roger being there make it seem even more like The Saint with cowboy hats, but he doesn't even do the cowboy hats. Never mind, it was fun, and I'm not sure that blast with the hose at the end was entirely scripted, cause the way Roger laughed, well, it was v. cute, but it really looked like he broke character (if that isn't going too far re dearest Roger, method man that he is).
I miss Jack and James though, for all my delight at my daily Rogering (sorry, couldn't resist). Miss 'em terribly. Am I know Maverick wasn't monochrome bleakness to start with, but it does seem to have ramped up the silly now that Roger is on board. Hmmm, he seems to have form in that regard. I await the doubletaking pigeon.
That said, the other week, when I could at least still look forward to the odd Jack episode, I was treated to the two boys caught out by 19thC phishing. No, really, it was a fake telegraph office with fake wires that just went to the bad guy's lair and when people tried to wire money it went there and not Denver. Totally a 19thC netscam. I was bemused.
And aside from the nutjob of the week on Rex I let the machines do my tv watching again cause I'm knackered (I intend to catch up tomorrow, but like that's gonna happen, I mean, really).
Sigh. My lunch date bailed again (second time this week, not that I'm counting or anything) and I'd dolled up (on mufti day, no less) and brought in piicnic blankie. Oh well. Went down to the park myself armed with book and a bottle of faux green tea that tastes like loo cleaner smells (not exactly what I'd hoped for, obviously, shoulda stuck with Starbucks, but it's full of caffiene so whoo) and got myself sunburnt as I flipped through my book. I did learn however that the great Bulwer-Lytton, no less, turned his hand to things Arthurian, which included, amongst other things, polar expeditions, fights with walruses and viking sacrifice. Okay, let's not have Merlin go completely Xena on us, but I shouldn't mind a wicker man. Just the one. That'd be fun.
When I schelped back to work I heard Common People on the old radio (I nearly said tranny but that means something completely different these days) and wouldn't that make for a great Merlin vid? Okay, just me thinking that? Never mind.
Hmmmm....the boss just walked out for whatever reason. This means cupcakes! Cupcakes duly deployed.
Pustulant sores update: still with the blistery back. Not fun and the peanut gallery's first aid skills aren't really there (though he tries), cause my bandage has gone skewiff again. Sigh. And ouch.
Universal - Skull & Crossbones Mini Hot Water Bottle [at least it didn't have friggin kittens on it]
Family Guy wins court battle over song
Coldplay and Kylie headline Sound Relief gig in aid of bush fire victims
Why don't Aussie film-makers produce more Ocker films?
Grassley doesn’t actually want mass suicides at AIG
James May To Create A Garden At The 2009 RHS Chelsea Flower Show
BBC Two to bring out the kid in us in James May's Toy Stories
Silver on the tree
Silver on the Tree
Alexander the Great's tomb 'is in Broome, Western Australia'
Google Street View hits Britain
Fossil hints at fuzzy dinosaurs
Elisabeth of Austria-Hungary