6 March 2011 (Sunday) - Hythe, Telly, Ranting...
Yesterday I mentioned that I was up till all hours waiting to hear from “Hopalong”, who was out with his mates. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t wake up till 11am this morning. I don’t mind a bit of a lay in, but by the time I’d had some brekkie, half of a precious weekend day was wasted.
I had a quick root-around on Facebook for a while. Once a really good social networking site, these days it seems to be little more than somewhere to lay the groundwork for the next day’s sick leave, judging by the amount of on-line whinging that seems to be rife there.
Interestingly I saw that quite a few of my real life friends who aren’t on my Facebook list are on my glove puppet’s Facebook list. What’s that all about? Mind you, I hear that same glove puppet has had a sex-change. And has made a new video to celebrate….
And so to Hythe to meet up with the Romney Marsh Countryside Project. We went out for a walk with these people last year on an organised walk to the sound mirrors, and on seeing they were organising a stroll along the canal today, we thought we’d join in. Bearing in mind there were nearly two hundred people on the last walk we did with these people, we were rather disappointed to find there were only fifteen of us today. In fact our party of five made up a third of the total.
But we had a good time. The leader was friendly and helpful: he organised us along the canal. He stopped us at points of interest, he told us what birds were making the various chirpings we could hear, and he filled in all sorts of snippets of local history along the way.
It was a good walk, but it was a bit cold. It was good thinking on the part of the organisers to finish at a café so’s we could get a warming cuppa. Mind you, I couldn’t believe my eyes at the end. Every event or activity like this always has at least one misfit along. Our misfit was a particularly unfortunate-looking chap whose beard simply did not fit his face. After an hour and a half’s walk, misfit went back to his car and let his wife out. Wifey then accompanied misfit to the café for a cuppa. She’d just sat in the car (waiting for the walk to finish) for ninety minutes.
Rather than wasting the evening in NeverWinter, against my better judgement I watched some telly.
It never fails to amaze me that everyone with whom I associate in any way whatsoever assumes that I will avidly watch any telly program which is in any way connected with a hobby or interest of mine. Whenever there is anything on the telly about real ale, pythons, scouting, archaeology, astronomy, hiking, cycling, kite-flying, Anthea Turner, or anything remotely interesting, I am expected to have seen the program. And when I admit that haven’t watched the show, I am met with amazement and disbelief. Usually I am assured I have missed the best program in the history of television.
But there is a reason that I don’t watch TV programs about real ale, pythons, scouting, archaeology, astronomy, hiking, cycling, kite-flying, Anthea Turner, or anything remotely interesting. The reason being that having a hobby means I know something about the subject. TV programs are (on the whole) made to be light entertainment for the “Great Unwashed” who aren’t expected to know anything at all about the TV program’s subject matter.
But this evening was the launch of the BBC’s “Wonders of the Universe”, and being unable to face going through the tedious explanation (at least a dozen times) of why I didn’t see the show, I thought I’d watch the program. For once I would give a TV show a chance before dismissing it out of hand.
If nothing else, I proved myself right. Perhaps I’m spoiled by being a member of an excellent astronomy club. But I’m used to having a monthly detailed lecture on things astronomical; usually state-of-the-art information and often at degree level. Tonight’s “Wonders of the Universe” might have been better titled “Woo – aren’t spacey things pretty?” The show *could* have been good: it didn’t need to be dumbed down like it was.
The first forty minutes of the show could have been conveyed concisely in ninety seconds. I didn’t watch the last twenty minutes. Instead I went on-line to the death clock which told me that I’ve got just under twenty eight years left on this Earth. Those twenty eight years are precious: too precious to waste on rubbish TV shows aimed at the masses.
I’m now off to watch “Bottom” and “The Young Ones”…..