I've been reading a few of my early blog posts. Not many, just in the first couple of months. I haven't that much patience. Remarkably, I haven't changed the way I write much - well, I didn't say 'darling' in those days, but that was because I didn't know if anyone was reading it. I signed up with StatCounter after a while, but only after I started getting comments, didn't occur to me to start with. I never expected anyone to read it.
The reason for this sudden interest in myself - well, I'm always wildly interested in myself, of course, someone has to be - is that I noticed that, although I wrote fewer posts than I have in previous years, I still averaged more than one a day. I thought I'd finally managed to restrict myself to a single daily epistle in 2010, but evidently not. And I haven't started this year too well, have I?
There were three routes on offer today, 2.9 miles, 5.5 miles and 8.something miles. I opted for the short walk, but most people walked further. I made the right choice, for me, much of it was over sodden ground and, although it wasn't hard going, it was enough for me. My hip has ached a bit this evening. Not the ache of arthritis, of course, the soreness of feeling the join. It was a good walk and a good party though.
I rarely watch television nowadays, but I really enjoyed Eric and Ernie, the dramatisation of Morecambe and Wise's early years. Worth catching on iPlayer, if you didn't see it. And now, there's a documentary about them, and the Sage and I were so happy to see our friend Norman Percival, who used to be their pianist. Once - just once - they had a piano on stage and brought him on as part of the act for a couple of minutes, and they showed that bit a few minutes ago. Norman died some years ago, it was just lovely to see him again. The Sage phoned his wife Barbara for a chat just before Christmas.
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7 comments:
They showed some Morecambe and Wise episodes here in the U.S. My favorite team will always be The Two Ronnies. Goodnight from me and goodnight from him.
I just read your earliest posts. Your writing seems bright and untroubled. I would never have picked up on any sadness. You may have chosen the right tone to ease whatever was bothering you. Your perception of happiness turned into your reality, didn't it? Happy new year to you.---
Glenda
I really have to fight myself, some days, not to write two posts.
Everyone watched both pairs, Martina (I'm supposing Martina!). M & W used to have 30,000,000 viewers for their Christmas show, which is astonishing, even though there were only four channels then.
It had been circumstances that had been overwhelming, also living with someone who was deeply unhappy. The reasons for the lack of cheer were gone, but it took a long time to recover. And yes, a perceptive remark, Glenda.
We've got quite a lot in common in some ways, Dave, but the real difference, at heart, is that I'm a Cavalier and you're a Roundhead. Still, the Farmer and the Cowboy can be friends, to mix my metaphors thoroughly.
I think your (and Dave's) post-a-day assiduity is astonishing.
Although I'm sure you ain't a gal that cain't say No, I'd like to say a word for the cowboy:
The road he treads is difficult and stony.
He rides for days on end
With jist a pony for a friend:
I'm sure am feelin' sorry fer the pony!
We blog-territory folk must stick together, right, Chris?
I absolutely claim Ado Annie as my rôle model throughout life. On the surface, Dave appears to be Judd Fry, but I think that, secretly, he'd like to be that travelling peddler (not to my Annie, however).
I over-share by nature, which is probably one of the reasons I blog.
The two Ronnies and their four candle skit are still my favourite.
It's so good to hear of you going on long walks and being mobile again.
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