Did you see it?  If you watched The Great Celebrity Bake Off, last night, you couldn’t have missed it!  By ‘it’, I mean Carol Vorderman’s butt!  Seriously?  Does anyone remember Kenny Everett and his famous impersonation of Rod Stewart in his Do You Think I’m Sexy? phase?  Skin-tight leopard print leggings, Kenny – as Rod – used to prance around while his buttocks were, effectively, blown up.  Hilarious, in those days, of relative sanity but, more than thirty years on, Kim Kardashian has been invented and her rear blows Kenny’s – aka Rod – out of the buttock park even at its most inflated!  What’s more, Kim has had God knows what pumped into her cheeks (just exploring my wide vocabulary), deliberately, and at great expense.  Kanye, obviously, prefers her not to sit down.  Well, quite frankly, how can she

It does beggar belief that some women will pay a fortune to have foreign matter injected into their bottoms believing it to be attractive.  Actually, I am told that they have their own fat taken from another area of their bodies and put into the lower region.  Some logic in removing flab from a problem area and putting it somewhere else but, then, there’s always that ridiculous concept of exercise?!

Big butts.  A must for women, in some cultures, in terms of attractiveness.  Zimbabwe, for example.  I remember – in the dark ages – flying to Harare courtesy of Air Zimbabwe.  (Many years later, I was treated to Air Namibia, flying halfway round the world for an eleven-hour journey – another story.) Back to Air Zimbabwe, for now …  I was enroute to Africa for the very first time so I didn’t really care how I was getting there.  So excited!  I did, however, expect our mode of transport would be a jumbo?  Not so.  More specifically, it was an old Boeing 747.  Obviously, a cheap acquisition for Air Zimbabwe!

There was further hilarity when one of our party – not my parents – asked what the inflight film was.  Gradually, things were becoming more clear but, as I said, we were going to Africa so that was all that mattered.  The fact that the plane was ancient and no bigger than that which flew Edinburgh to London?  Harare, here we come!  Now, to the relevance of my tale – the air hostesses.  As Pop would say – and, no doubt, did – they were vast with bottoms which would never make it between the aisles … surely?  (Stop calling me Shirley!)  As luck would have it, somehow, they did and kept right on smiling!  With no inhouse film and all loos packing in over – probably Kenya – it wasn’t the most salubrious journey but, as dawn broke over the plains of Africa, it was a sight to behold for someone who had dreamnt of going since she was six years-old (that rhymes!).  Well, I can imagine it was a sight to behold.  As it was, I was not sitting by the window but, rather, enjoyed scrambled glimpses! Forgive and forget?  What do you think?

It’s amazing the subject matter – and word count – one can glean from Carol Vorderman’s butt!  What, then, about her IQ?  Known to be high, there was really no need to blow her own trumpet, last night, before she had even tied her apron but, blow her own trumpet she did.  Mind you, she inflated it, slightly, declaring it was ‘about 160’.  Googling it, it is said to be 154.  Oh, well, what difference does an increase of 6 make in terms of IQ?  Quite a lot, I should imagine.  Moving on …  I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about her urgency to declare her high intellect.  There she was with a bottom the size of two space hoppers, boobs the size of Mrs Doubtfire’s and a face full of botox.  Smacks of genius to me!  Look, she can fly a plane, what more confirmation does one need?

Poor Carol.  She did win, though, so she was pleased at that.  Any other notes apropos television programmes?  Ah, yes!  Scribbled on a piece of paper, I wrote down some of the ridiculous job titles of today – well, certainly, on First Dates!  I’m not sure if it is merely a case of the participants wishing to big themselves up or a more blanket representation of a world gone mad?  Sadly, I suspect the latter.  Ready for this?  The following is the job title, applied to himself, by someone in sales: Customer Success Executive.  Now, I love my exclamation marks but there just isn’t one big enough for that!!  Definitely a job for two – exclamation marks, that is.  Suspect there is only one ‘Customer Success Executive’.  None the wiser but utterly ridiculous, regardless.

Then there was the Beauty Consultant who described herself as a Waxing Entrepreneur!  If one is of a sunny disposition, it is, actually, quite entertaining to watch – First Dates – every now and then but, whilst it can be amusing to mock, believing some of the participants to be extreme, sadly, the realisation that they are today’s norm is somewhat depressing.  Many cannot string two words together, devoid of both etiquette and intellect, while many more are just positively weird.  I can only imagine Fred producing one of them for me … never climbed out of a bathroom window, yet, but there’s always a first!

It is so sad that the world is such that, more and more, those taking part in First Dates are in their twenties.  Nobody meets anybody organically anymore – through friends, at a party or dinner party or in a pub frequented by your crowd.  No such thing nowadays.  All online and, therefore, no history or guarantee.  (Even I can’t think of anything sarcastic or funny to say to that.). It’s not a nice world anymore.  Loneliness and unhappiness abound.  Let’s hope this crisis and enforced lockdown prove the wake-up call it – we, so desperately need.

Success is often measured in terms of how much money or fame one accumulates in a lifetime.  My father knew little of either yet he was the most successful man I have ever known.  He lived each day with zest, a sense of adventure and a twinkle in his eye.  He loved his family well and we miss him.

An excerpt from The Waltons, written by Earl Hamner.

When the world had it right …

This is Trish, signing off.