When I was a kid at junior school, we had an annual campaign type appeal to put together xmas food hampers for 'the poor' - considering at the time my parents were broke and my father had been on strike with British Steel for about 6 months - it was a fairly harsh time. The hampers were put together by a teacher and we were allowed to go out on the van run to drop them off. Mostly - it would be to perfectly ordinary houses, perfectly ordinary people ( some had cars, we didn't ) and in one case - a very nice detached bungalow with very well manicured gardens ( I always associated the outrageous decadence of single story living with the very rich ). The last call would always be at the Poor Clare convent - a strange order, they spend their lives behind bars in contemplative prayer - hours at a time, eschewing all contact with the outside world, all very aged ( we were allowed to look at them through the bars - like waxwork exhibits - and all twisted and bowed by decades of kneeling to pray, they were always very smiley and sweet - but tiny, withered little women with sad eyes. They had a special box that was mostly flour, pulses and rice crackers - as they lived in poverty. The 2nd year I did the run, I swapped the labels and made sure they had a box of chocolate liqueurs - brandy snaps, candied fruits and a small bottle of scotch. I hope the people who got their box were grateful for their good fortune and charity.
Here they are now - although they look a lot more robust and healthy - and I think the place has been spruced up a bit, not as grim as it used to be.
.... I might watch Black Narcissus later.
Christmas here has been great - I had 2 glasses of wine last night - and really didn't enjoy them, my first drink in 6 days - could have done without it. I've apparently spent less money than I would under normal circumstances, tonight I'm having a Toulouse Sausage and bean casserole.
There has been a 'special' Xmas book of the week on radio 4, it's an excruciating memoir of the kind of childhood that is totally alien to me - full of fun, friendship, luxury and privilege "my uncle - Rudyard Kippling" etc. Its packed with over blown language and cliche that could almost be parody - I liken it to the terrible 'Morrissey inspired" creative writing you get on the Internet "Oh, how my heart sank, as northern leaden grey skies wept over another Withenshaw morning" and stuff like that. However - it's fact, and not fiction - you'd think that the real world was a saner place, but no - this is from today's Telegraph - the 'shock' wedding of Kate Winslet - these people live in another world...I'm not even sure her husband is a real person - he may be computer generated, judging from his pictures and biography.
We had staggeringly bad weather this morning - a very ugly squall blew up at about 8.30am and turned the sky black.
Sad news about Gerry Anderson, without his creativity - my childhood would have been even more rubbish than it was. Many of the puppets were more real to me than the adults I had to deal with - and even the live action stuff like Space 1999 was preferable to anything else on TV at the time ( or possibly since ), and coincidentally - I watched the first episode on youtube on Xmas eve.
2 comments:
Gerry Anderson saved me from the pain of talking to my parents during Sunday lunchtimes. I loved his vision of the future, where young men wore cardigans and listened to smooth jazz, like the Chan Chan.
I used to worry about the mental health of John Tracy, stuck in Thunderbird 5 for months on end, forced to listen to all the radio broadcasts of the world. I also found Captain Scarlet very depressing. But overall Gerry Anderson's programmes were a beacon of light and colour in a shitty, grey life.
personally - I thought John Tracy was the lucky one, I wanted to be up there with him - and as for Captain Scarlett - it had an adult danger about it, and I saw ( probably in my head ) quite a lot of ambiguity and excitement - but then, I thought Captain Black was the hero...
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