I think that Wolf Hall probably has been the best thing broadcast on the BBC in the last 5 or so years. Sublime drama – pure Game of Thrones territory in its ability to capture the imagination (sans dragons and gratuitous sex of course).
I’d never even heard of the guy that played Cromwell – Mark Rylance – now lorded as the ‘greatest actor of his generation’. It was all rather devastatingly good though. I’m not the world’s biggest history buff but it brought that period home in spades. Visceral, political, real. Incredibly vivid and accessible, not dusty at all.
Go forth and watch it or risk revelling in your own philistinism! :)
Once upon a time, travelling by plan was exciting and glamourous. Something to look forward to. It’s all so very tawdry now.
As is not unusual on this blog – I’m looking back, fondly, at an earlier age.
In a local restaurant that seems to attract luminaries – of a sort – from days gone by. The most unpretentious (and cost-wise, incredibly modest) place one might care to frequent. Patrons representing an old-school set, pure dowager territory (I think I may have blogged about it once before – I forget?). Today she was there again, the prima ballerina from an earlier, some might say better, age. Now in her 80s. I only know her history because I once heard the proprietor describing her thus, in fairly quiet tones, to diners at a nearby table.
Today, I wasn’t paying much attention or indeed facing the right way, but Sheridan had eyes cast on the table behind me. An older-lady – glamourous and confident (and a serious socialite from times gone by, I later found out). Her companion (husband) the disgraced politician. He has served his time so that epithet probably oughtn’t to be used. It is, however, descriptive.
A leaving do for a work colleague. Venue a private members’ club in St James’. My old stomping ground from days gone by (the area, rather than the club). I like these sorts of clubs – slightly stuffy yet also quite informal. Members on first name terms with all the staff. Lots of older people (i.e. those who have been members for decades). Cheap prices at the bar and in the restaurant. Traditional old-skool fare for dinner. I like that. In this part of town there are dozens of such clubs, ranging from the very grand to the fairly ordinary. I’ve been to a few over the years. I do wonder whether I might rather like being a member. I probably would.
The leaver (moving internally) gives me a hot tip about a potential promotion opportunity (for me) in the department she’s moving to. Very big ‘note to self’ to follow up tomorrow. She says she’ll put in a good word. Which I believe. I’m ready for a change.
An easy tube ride home.
‘Neglect’ is a word that comes to mind when I think of this blog. I remember days gone by (I’m talking several years ago) when everyone and their uncle blogged. It was de rigeur back then. Now? Well it’s like a fringe activity practised by a distinctly minority group.
I enjoyed blogging in ‘yesteryear’. Alas, it has been eclipsed by Twitter, pretty much hook line and sinker. Why spend time investing in writing a blog post when you can spew out your thoughts on a whim in 140 characters? I mean, why put yourself through the effort of writing a post?
I maintain a distinct fondness for the Old Ways, for that period during which we all blogged. Thoughtful, interesting vignettes into others’ lives. I liked it.
I suppose I am stubborn insofar as I won’t scuttle this blog. Sure, I’ve thought about it frequently. But I’m not going to.
I want to get back to the old ways. Short, couplahundredword vignettes is what I’d like to get back to. On various subjects. Snippets if you will. Succinct. Musings. That sort of thing.
That thing where you keep playing the same music over and over again. That.
For me it’s currently the soundtrack from the violent/indie video-game Hotline Miami which I am loving.
Really like this kind of electronic music.