I don’t know what I would do without Grace and Frankie, the wonderful Neflix series which I mentioned in my post a month ago (10th May). Every night we sit down – having vowed to have a week free of alcohol – with a large gin. Routinely, fed up and exhausted – well the birds keep one awake when one goes to bed in the early hours – we seek solace in the beautiful beach house in Malibu where Grace (Jane Fonda) and Frankie (Lily Tomlin) attempt to navigate life after their forty-year marriages ended in divorce following the revelation of their lawyer husbands that they were gay and had been having an affair for twenty years. Phew! Once a ridiculous premise – perhaps, in this mad world, not so much anymore – it provides a platform for both hilarity and pathos courtesy of brilliant writing. Somehow, I feel the two women – both executive producers – are, in part, playing themselves. Jane Fonda, as ever, is eternally slim, eternally immaculate and sharp as a tack while Lily Tomlin is, outwardly, her antithesis. She is the hippy artist with the laissez faire attitude who floats around in dungarees and kaftans, believes in everything organic, smokes weed and makes lube! Don’t ask. Together, they are gold and so, so funny; not silly funny, though, intelligent funny (there’s a difference) and I could watch it day and night …
Part of its charm lies in watching the two women, gradually, learning to compromise; to learn from and appreciate the foibles of the other. Frankie knows that Grace turns to vodka – which she has hidden in every cupboard, disguised in various receptacles around the house – while, in times of meltdown, Frankie can be found on the beach dancing round a pile of stones and humming some ethnic mantra like a Native American witch doctor. At first, I thought I was more like Frankie! She wears the most amazing chunky necklaces and beautiful colours and I love her style – big baggy dungarees and floaty tops, made chic with quirky accessories. Most of all, though, she has a free spirit and doesn’t give a damn what people think of her. Grace, on the other hand, is the complete opposite and, despite the confident, controlled front, is very insecure. Cleverly, most women can probably recognise themselves in both. The comedy lies in their interaction. Highly recommended. Oh, and interesting fact alert, the beach house is that of Dick Van Dyke in Diagnosis Murder! My days are not wasted …
I’m trying to zone out of this mad, corrupt world. In the words of W.H Auden in his poem, ‘Funeral Blues”, ‘Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone … ‘You will not be happy!! It’s like that. Turn on the radio, first thing, and, inevitably, the news headline contains the word ‘vaccine’; the latest statistics, the latest variants, the latest restrictions. A year and a half on, we’re done! The promise of a normal life is waved like a carrot under one’s nose but, forever, just out of reach as the government refuses to renege control. SAGE this, SAGE that. Only this morning, I read that some female, within said group, has advised that masks be worn for the foreseeable future to field off any virus! Watch me! Wear a piece of material, ridden with bacteria, which most will never wash, which restricts oxygen intake and which, ergo, does more harm than good … forever more? In a word, no.
UEFA Euro 2020 – postponed from last year – kicks off tonight in Rome. Rome … Seems like a lifetime ago. The thing is, in this country at least, apparently chanting is prohibited along with singing and dancing – in the pub. Music is to be kept low so as not to encourage any such jollity, God forbid! First, no hymn singing in church, no smiling – hence the masks – and, now, no fun to be had in a hosterly. Methinks, there is a common thread here. Forget the strains of ‘Don’t worry, be happy’, think ‘Live in fear and be miserable’! Meantime, back at the ranch …
Or not. Here’s me thinking I had little to write about today and, then, along comes Boris! Thank you. Thank you for making me laugh. Honestly, to see the photograph he posted of himself on Twitter, yesterday, thumbs up, on the stairs of the private jet he took from London to Cornwall – all of 250 miles – and, then, to read his comment below: ‘I’ve arrived in Cornwall for this year’s @G7 where I’ll be asking my fellow leaders to rise to the challenge of beating the pandemic and building back better, fairer and greener.’ Seriously? Greener? Standing at the top of the stairs of his private jet? Has he ever considered writing comedy scripts? (One of my favourite lines, used, frequently, between the years 2012-2018) As, one by one, his ‘mates’ flew in on their private jets – President Biden on Air Force One – and headed, with their wives, to the luxury of Tregenna Castle for the next two days, the words boys and their toys came to mind. We rule the world! I have a little sign on the wall in the kitchen which reads: In the beginning, God created man. Mistake #1 …
There is humour to be found in all things and, for that, I am very grateful. In this often hideous world inhabited by some equally hideous people, thankfully, there are those who shine. Michael J. Fox is one of those people. Only recently, I was deleting some old recordings and remembered that I had kept an old Graham Norton Show from Christmas because I, specifically, wanted to see Michael J. Fox. I watched it and was truly humbled. No pusillanimous for him, that guy embodies courage! I remember when he had it all, back in the 80s when he was in Family Ties and then went on to star as Marty McFly in Back to the Future. Young, talented and so good looking, that film ensured his fame the world over – and, it would seem, for all time. However, life was to deal him a bitter blow and, not long married and with his first child, the actor was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease at the age of 29. He has never let it beat him, taking a leaf out of Pollyanna’s book and always finding something to be glad about. Immediately, joining the campaign to find a cure for the disease, he continued to act – incorporating his illness in The Good Wife – before stepping back, age 40, to set up the Michael J. Fox Foundation. He has written several books, the first – written after his diagnosis – entitled Lucky Man!
Over the last thirty years, he learned to live with the disease – supported by his wife and four children – but he was to be further tested in 2018 when it was discovered he had a large tumour on his spine. Thankfully, benign, the operation to remove it was extremely delicate requiring four months of rehab in the aftermath during which he learned to walk again. Enough? Not quite. Finally, on his feet again, he was home alone one morning and slipped and fell on the kitchen floor, breaking his arm in multiple places. He describes how, lying on the floor waiting for the ambulance to come, he had no fight left. This time, The Glad Game sucked! He was done.
As I said, in a world of mediocre, there are some who just shine. Once again, his inner strength and incredible courage pulled him through and, once again, he looked around him and saw a loving family, constant through thick and thin, and friends who were going nowhere. In addition, he realised that he had built a body of work which would outlive him and continue to entertain generations to come. Michael J. Fox has, already, left his mark. He was 60 years-old on Wednesday (9th June) and he is happy …
In this often hideous world … Today, I heard Jeremy Vine on the radio telling of how, in his local church at Turnham Green, there is a memorial to the fallen in WWI. The names are commemorated on bronze plaques. Twelve of these plaques have been unscrewed and stolen. Similarly, it reminds me of the little bronze plaques on the cobbles outside some of the houses in Monti, Rome which can never go unnoticed, each representing a Jew who was taken from his/her home during the Holocaust. These, too, have had to be replaced.
The Glad Game. From the age of nine, I always associated it with Pollyanna. Now, I will think of Michael J. Fox whose courage is inspirational and a lesson to us all.
‘Life delivered me a catastrophe but I found a richness of soul.’
Michael J. Fox
This is Trish, signing off.
