Monday, December 19, 2005

30 shomething

The lovely Alex celebrated her 30th last night in Chorlton. It all began in a most civilized fashion at 4pm in a chic Chorlton restaurant with fabuluous food, company and presents. The ending was slightly less glamorous - though no less fun - at 11pm in a bar next to said restaurant. I never knew I could drink for that long. Or that hard.


Here she is making an emotional speech sometime around 6.30pm.

And again, making like she's shocked...


I struggled to get to work for 9.30 this morning and was feeling delicate until lunchtime...

Yestarday morning got off to a slightly surreal start when the local rowing fraternity decided to use the bit of river beneath my bedroom window as a gathering point...


Now, I don't have any objection to being woken up at the crack of dawn by a load of men in lycra - indeed I have been known to pursue such experiences from time to time. But when the little motor boat with a man screeching into a megaphone joined them, it all became a little too much.


I could have borne it more easily had I not been reeling from the shock of
Betty Tucker's death. Cruelly cut down by a heart attack she memorably described as 'really quite frightening', Betty was taken from us in a shock twist to the rural radio drama The Archers that will have the message boards at the BBC buzzing. I read the press release and was a little surprised to read the following:

'What with managing the village shop, the organic egg business she runs with Neil Carter - not to mention coping with her cantankerous husband, Mike! – things do seem to have got on top of Betty lately.'

Now I'm all for a bit of the old stiff upper lip and underplaying tragedy - but an exclamation mark in a press release announcing someone's death? A step too far.
There will be complaints to the Daily Mail, I can feel it in my waters.

The actress (Pamela Craig) has left in order to move closer to her grandchildren - who live in New Zealand. So the slow crushing pain and suffocating panic felt by Betty during her heart attack is a feeling Pamela still has in store for her when she reaches NZ.

Work is a fucking nightmare at the moment. I can't wait for the enforced tedium of Christmas Day. I have fantasies about watching moralising films offering a 'modern take' on Scrooge; I relish the arrival of the symptoms of overeating and colonic discomfort; I want to get annoyed with my family in the comfort of the family home. I really want to do nothing at all for at least four days. Now that's the meaning of Christmas.

2 Comments:

Blogger Bournemouth Runner said...

Oddly enough I was also drinking in a bar (in fact, THE bar) in Chorlton, yesterday from 3.30 to midnight. By the time I left I was pretty sure I lived there, with my large, somewhat inebriated family.

8:33 pm  
Blogger c&v said...

the family that gets hammered together, staggers home together as they say...

11:19 pm  

Post a Comment

<< Home