Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Monday, October 26, 2009

26 October - X Factor

Have had relatives visiting for a few days, so have had to go out to show them sites and stuff otherwise they'd have gone a bit stir crazy stuck in my home with me. Since have still got impaired mobility post op, a site I took them to was ... Westtfield shopping centre. Yes am ashamed but it is the largest in europe or is it? And they were not up for the V&A Last of the Maharajis exhibition or for Anish Kapoor. Plus they're old and found the Westfield environment sort of safe and I could sit down whilst they wandered. Then there were a reasonable amount of lunches and dinners and friends and family visits which meant that by Saturday evening after a 3 hour round trip to deliver them to Stansted airport, Toph and I were bushed.

And so it was that we were on the sofa with cheeses and salad (no cooking required) and what the heck let's watch X Factor, the rest of the nation does....

As expected I found it of no interest at all. I can sort of see the wheels turning and so can't really fall for any of it. And am not the audience for it either and I cringe too much at the overuse of the same words/sentences. All the endless thanks for the opportunities given to the hopefuls who'll have their life changed for a week or two post show and elimination blah blah.

The surprise was that Toph was engrossed and kept up a running commentary that was frankly irritating. He seemed not to have understood that it's not the one with the best voice who will win and being the best has nothing to with it at all. Nor knowing about music. And that it's for the very old who watch and for the very young who bother to spend money voting. I have no figures but I guess that's what it is.

And sadly even more surprising to me was the fact that he then wanted to watch the Sunday night show. I carried on reading the paper but the intrusion from the show was major. Ok could have gone to anothe room but the one sofa was the one I wanted to be on. So there you have it, my beloved is now officially old because he enjoys such shitty pursuit as to watch/comment on talent shows. Production values my arse, this is a mere step up from some country fair entertainment offering, superior karaoke and so on.

The test will be if he, having realised this is no quick show and will eke out same format till Xmas, will want to watch it next week also. If so, I fear this is one of those relationship defining. It's all very well being a united front against Twitter, but if one of us breaks ranks and starts enjoying x factor or strictly come dancing, the fissure can only go on widening.



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