I have just filled the kettle from the tap in the kitchen and the water is white in colour! We are expected to drink that? In parts of Africa, it would be life-saving but this is not a third world country. We have come to expect more; perhaps too much and there’s the rub …
Switch on the radio or television and the news is nothing short of horrific. Yesterday, I listened to the Oxfam scandal detailing the sexual misconduct ascribed to employees in the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake; deviants praying on the goodwill of others to fund their depravity under the guise of charity. Not surprisingly, in the 10 days following the revelations, 7,000 regular donors have withdrawn their generosity. Sadly, Oxfam and the altruistic work of the majority may never recover.
In the same news bulletin, I also learned that – apropos the sentencing of Barry Bennell, the former football coach – in the UK last year, the number of child sex offences rose to a record 64,667. These offences include rape, sexual assault and grooming. Worse, of the 64,667, 13,876 cases involved children aged 10 or under; 2,788 were against children aged 4 or under and 193 of the offences were against babies under the age of one. My heart sinks.
It does make one think. Makes me think – no, almost yearn to shun the rat race and find that idyllic cottage miles from humanity with a big open fire, comfy couches with squashy cushions, lots of mismatched old furniture each piece with its own tale to tell, bookcases galore, cherished photographs on every surface (impossible to dust!) and my wonderful paintings displayed for all to see rather than on the floor or hidden – time for these must haves which broke bank to be seen! No minimalism/character bypass for me. No interior designer for great fee required. Instead, a home which tells a story; my story. Location? Funny one should ask. The answer? Location, Location, Location!
Kirsty and Phil do not know it yet but they are the key to my idyll. I think about it a lot and, only recently, I was explaining to my dear friend, Mr Gill – he has been coming to fix my kitchen appliances for years – just exactly my plan. Good-natured as ever, he laughed as I told him that I have every intention of applying for the programme and, as they have never been to St Andrews, I am quietly confident that I will be successful. So far so good. Becca is aware that she will be required for filming – and preferably Manny, too, although I know he will prove more difficult. Then there is the part where one discloses one’s budget coupled with one’s list of requirements for dream property … It is, at this point, that the renowned programme will descend into the realms of comedy and probably, for this reason, that Mr Gill is insistent that he be kept well informed as to its future viewing slot. He says I am Kirsty and thinks the two of us, together, will make for great TV. Yes! Yes! He does wear glasses but, looks aside, I see where he is coming from. She does have strong opinions and speaks her mind regardless but, then, her opinions are usually worth listening to! Add to that, the fact that she is never boring and I think she and I will get along just famously. The problem of the budget? Well, by the time I have filled her in on the background – and, probably, the entire viewing nation – she will feel sufficiently sorry for me to give it her all. Hopefully, that will not amount to a caravan above the East Sands! Can one hang paintings in a caravan? Ironically, I know exactly whom I could ask …
What else? Well, the word count has only tipped 645 so never one to deprive my reader, I shall endeavour to ‘entertain’ with further thoughts fleeting through my head. That sentence has produced a wiggly red line under endeavour as the American spelling is without the ‘u’. I do hate the way the computer – and phone – automatically try to enforce ‘Americanisms’. It’s like sparring with an inanimate object!
On the subject of the land of the open prairie, cowboys and thus, inevitably, beans (or, is that just me?), what of the very public spat between SJP – that’s Sarah Jessica Parker not St James’s Place (God forbid!) – and Kim Cattrall? Not interested? Personally, I loved Sex & The City. Very much the reluctant viewer, initially, I quickly realized that at its heart was the friendship of four women whose day-to-day lives engendered both humour and great pathos. Deserving of acclaim and every award, it was no secret that SJP was in charge and commanded the top fee – and Kim Cattrall was not pleased. However, the bitterness would appear to be deep-seated and has blown the myth of the on-screen friendship apart. Sadly, real life is exactly that – real. True friends are precious and, whilst as essential as oxygen, they are usually one’s old friends who don’t live round the corner; rather, live at all ends of the country or on the other side of the world. My closest friends are not, themselves, friends and perhaps the only common link is me, each sharing a different aspect of my character or history. The point is, do friendship groups such as that of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda exist? In some walks of life, I’m sure they do. For the rest of us, we are merely left feeling envious – and inadequate!
‘After all, seasons change, so do cities; people come into your life and people go but it’s comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart. And, if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.’ Carrie, Sex & The City.
Just like The Waltons, that straight to the heart message at the end …
Life, the world is so depressing right now but one must never lose the ability to laugh. I record James Martin’s American Adventure and the latest episode took him to Austin, Texas. Always one to see the funny side, I shall end with two facts gleaned from his programme today – and remind me to recount my James Martin story one day soon …
‘It’s illegal to drink more than three sips of beer while stood up in Texas’ and ‘It’s also illegal to shoot a buffalo from the second storey of a hotel window.’ (James’ phrasing, not mine!)
Thank you, James Martin, for making me laugh and for equipping me with two facts bound to prove invaluable in my day-to-day life!
This is Trish, signing off.
Switch on the radio or television and the news is nothing short of horrific. Yesterday, I listened to the Oxfam scandal detailing the sexual misconduct ascribed to employees in the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake; deviants praying on the goodwill of others to fund their depravity under the guise of charity. Not surprisingly, in the 10 days following the revelations, 7,000 regular donors have withdrawn their generosity. Sadly, Oxfam and the altruistic work of the majority may never recover.
In the same news bulletin, I also learned that – apropos the sentencing of Barry Bennell, the former football coach – in the UK last year, the number of child sex offences rose to a record 64,667. These offences include rape, sexual assault and grooming. Worse, of the 64,667, 13,876 cases involved children aged 10 or under; 2,788 were against children aged 4 or under and 193 of the offences were against babies under the age of one. My heart sinks.
It does make one think. Makes me think – no, almost yearn to shun the rat race and find that idyllic cottage miles from humanity with a big open fire, comfy couches with squashy cushions, lots of mismatched old furniture each piece with its own tale to tell, bookcases galore, cherished photographs on every surface (impossible to dust!) and my wonderful paintings displayed for all to see rather than on the floor or hidden – time for these must haves which broke bank to be seen! No minimalism/character bypass for me. No interior designer for great fee required. Instead, a home which tells a story; my story. Location? Funny one should ask. The answer? Location, Location, Location!
Kirsty and Phil do not know it yet but they are the key to my idyll. I think about it a lot and, only recently, I was explaining to my dear friend, Mr Gill – he has been coming to fix my kitchen appliances for years – just exactly my plan. Good-natured as ever, he laughed as I told him that I have every intention of applying for the programme and, as they have never been to St Andrews, I am quietly confident that I will be successful. So far so good. Becca is aware that she will be required for filming – and preferably Manny, too, although I know he will prove more difficult. Then there is the part where one discloses one’s budget coupled with one’s list of requirements for dream property … It is, at this point, that the renowned programme will descend into the realms of comedy and probably, for this reason, that Mr Gill is insistent that he be kept well informed as to its future viewing slot. He says I am Kirsty and thinks the two of us, together, will make for great TV. Yes! Yes! He does wear glasses but, looks aside, I see where he is coming from. She does have strong opinions and speaks her mind regardless but, then, her opinions are usually worth listening to! Add to that, the fact that she is never boring and I think she and I will get along just famously. The problem of the budget? Well, by the time I have filled her in on the background – and, probably, the entire viewing nation – she will feel sufficiently sorry for me to give it her all. Hopefully, that will not amount to a caravan above the East Sands! Can one hang paintings in a caravan? Ironically, I know exactly whom I could ask …
What else? Well, the word count has only tipped 645 so never one to deprive my reader, I shall endeavour to ‘entertain’ with further thoughts fleeting through my head. That sentence has produced a wiggly red line under endeavour as the American spelling is without the ‘u’. I do hate the way the computer – and phone – automatically try to enforce ‘Americanisms’. It’s like sparring with an inanimate object!
On the subject of the land of the open prairie, cowboys and thus, inevitably, beans (or, is that just me?), what of the very public spat between SJP – that’s Sarah Jessica Parker not St James’s Place (God forbid!) – and Kim Cattrall? Not interested? Personally, I loved Sex & The City. Very much the reluctant viewer, initially, I quickly realized that at its heart was the friendship of four women whose day-to-day lives engendered both humour and great pathos. Deserving of acclaim and every award, it was no secret that SJP was in charge and commanded the top fee – and Kim Cattrall was not pleased. However, the bitterness would appear to be deep-seated and has blown the myth of the on-screen friendship apart. Sadly, real life is exactly that – real. True friends are precious and, whilst as essential as oxygen, they are usually one’s old friends who don’t live round the corner; rather, live at all ends of the country or on the other side of the world. My closest friends are not, themselves, friends and perhaps the only common link is me, each sharing a different aspect of my character or history. The point is, do friendship groups such as that of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda exist? In some walks of life, I’m sure they do. For the rest of us, we are merely left feeling envious – and inadequate!
‘After all, seasons change, so do cities; people come into your life and people go but it’s comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart. And, if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.’ Carrie, Sex & The City.
Just like The Waltons, that straight to the heart message at the end …
Life, the world is so depressing right now but one must never lose the ability to laugh. I record James Martin’s American Adventure and the latest episode took him to Austin, Texas. Always one to see the funny side, I shall end with two facts gleaned from his programme today – and remind me to recount my James Martin story one day soon …
‘It’s illegal to drink more than three sips of beer while stood up in Texas’ and ‘It’s also illegal to shoot a buffalo from the second storey of a hotel window.’ (James’ phrasing, not mine!)
Thank you, James Martin, for making me laugh and for equipping me with two facts bound to prove invaluable in my day-to-day life!
This is Trish, signing off.
