24 March - Future Sailors... Electronic castaways

This plan of not going abroad for Easter seemed like a good one. In fact it was. It’s quite relaxing not to have to traipse to an airport and spend half a day getting somewhere that we’re only visiting because we can, because a plane goes there. It would have been even better to totally stay at home instead of averaging the same half day to get to the North to see some relatives - 5.30 hours to do 200miles is Indian railways territory in my book. And they’re slow, but at least there’s someone on hand to sell you a cup of chai and peanuts. But we did sleep in till 11am for 3 days which has got to be savoured. What we did was not a lot… a drive to the coast, some food in a picturesque town, cheese and wine later in a posh country inn, some window shopping, the Anthony Gormley statues on the beach/in the sea, some uncontroversial conversation with the older relatives, took in a gallery, there was talk of a show. All in all a good exercise in practicing the pensioner lifestyle which awaits us.

Clubbing in town was mentioned, but was deferred and in fact altogether swapped for cocktails at 6pm in a bar with a view. However… it was a step too far to actually watch the 9pm main drama of the weekend on ITV or was it another channel? Ie. The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency. The first book of the series was given to me a few years back by the wife of a friend. She’d enjoyed it, she thought I would. How wrong can you be? But I forgive her, she means well.

I threw it away before vomiting at page 20 odd. Too quaint, too unremarkably written and mostly irrelevant to any cell of my body. But I thought I could handle the TV version. I did, just. But it left no trace, good actors, great camera work… nice to see a few fat Africans not dying of famine or hacked to death, but apart from that… I can picture being a pensioner but not watching pensioner TV.

Subsequently I made Toph do a few hours of the Mighty Boosh (he’s a virgin) and by episode 3 he was getting it. Now I’m no longer alone in chuckling at Milky Joe (my favourite episode is the castaways one) and at least on the way back we could break into song…. ‘Future Sailors… we’re future sailors, electronic castaways, digital stowaways, sidewalk seadogs…’ Right up my street, Vince should pay Visage’s heating bills at the very least. Then we watched some mild porn (whatever is free is a bit ropey) and had some fun… but I still missed going clubbing. Never happens these days… though I had a kind invitation on Thursday but predictably felt too tired to primp and go out at 11pm…