My clients yesterday, morning and afternoon, were very tolerant and indeed sympathetic of my almost constant nose blowing and intermittent sneezing. Where does all this fluid come from? And why? A whole big box of paper hankies used in twenty-four hours. So I made it through, considerably relieved that my colleague Simon had agreed to take on the job I was supposed to be doing today.
At home, I subsided onto the sofa and I was in bed by nine o’clock. MasterB was sweetly accommodating of my low energy. I slept almost immediately, but woke up sometime after midnight, and after that I think I slept fitfully. Anyway, I didn’t feel exactly refreshed when seven o’clock rolled around. But onwards and upwards, or perhaps upwards and onwards, and knowing I had avocado, watermelon and pomegranate seeds to top my toast motivated me into the kitchen. Continue reading
After a day spent staring at a screen as I start on my tax return, an unispiring experience where I am shocked at how little I earn, this evening I have turned to the slighter larger screen in the corner of the sitting room. It’s been mainly Channel 4; the news, the Paralympics, The Last Leg, shortly the Paralympics again and I’ll be watching until Ellie Simmonds races just after 11.30. But I had a bit of a break on ITV remembering how much I loved Cold Feet all those years ago, and finding that this return series is again reeling me in.
I didn’t watch the first episode last week. Call me a coward, but I didn’t want all those wonderful memories spoiled by a crass revival. However the reviews have been overwhelmingly positive, so tonight I decided to give it a whirl. It is rather wonderful to find that your memories are not rose-tinted, that the writing is tight and the performances warm and convincing. Hermione Wotsit (not her real name, but I can’t think of it at the minute) is great as the buttoned up Karen, now estranged from her husband David, played by Robert Bathhurst as an overgrown prep schoolboy who functions well in high finance but badly everywhere else. Born into a different class he’d could have been Arthur Daley. Widowed Adam has a new much younger wife, who despite the misgivings of his old friends turns out to be a good sort. Pete is crumbling into depression, struggling to make a living and working as a cabby and a carer. His client is a crabby James Bolam, obviously enjoying himself in his role. At the rate I am acquiring TV programmes I want to watch, going to Australia is going to be a bit of a wrench. Continue reading