I get easily distracted. My mind meanders in the real world as well as my blog. I am having a conversation about one thing and suddenly switch to a totally different subject. This is more than an little off-putting to those with whom I regularly converse. It’s not that I am one or two steps ahead of them, but several steps to the side, or diagonally, or horizontally, or vertically, or whatever blind “ allys “ my mind may go down. ( Chris Evans played some music from “ Allie McBeal “ this morning sung by Vonda Shepherd. Loved that show and the sound-track. Bet you did as well Isabella aged 94 ) It’s not that I am exceptionally intelligent or creative. It’s just that my thought process does seem to be totally random. Which has been of great help in writing these blogs where I don’t have the tight restrictions or structure or even plot that is required when I write a novel. That’s why I am only 17000 words odd into my new novel and have written about 70,000 words of blogs !
Meander as I may , there is always a dim light at the end of the maze to which I am heading and in this case it’s the fact that on several occasions over the past few weeks ( well, not few really, lots of weeks and days and months even and more to come… I have an awful feeling, indeed a Kafkaesque certainty that at the end of my current sentence due to expire on June 30th, my personal mate at the NHS, I don’t even know if the texts come from a man or a woman, will tell me that my internment is extended) . I’ve just noted that my asides in brackets get longer than the sentences they interrupt ) I feel like Patrick McGoohan in “ The Prisoner “ He had no idea why he was stuck in that village and could never escape. There’s a lovely TV series about Portmerion where they filmed it being repeated at the moment.
And that was one tv series where the ending made even less sense than the individual programmes. As I recall it finished at Westminster Abbey when McGoohan discovered that the elusive Number 1 was a monkey or an ape. Sorry for the spoiler if anybody was planning to revisit it. “ Blake’s 7 “ also had an incomprehensible conclusion. I am still friendly with Glynis Barber and Steven Pacey who starred in it ( just name dropping, Glynis also played “ Jane “ in the tv adaptation of the Daily Mirror cartoon) . Anyway, neither Glynis nor Steven comprehended what was going on in “ Blake’s “ She was a bit unfortunate with her choice of material as very few of the “ Dempsey and Makepeace” series made sense either. One of the papers over the weekend in anticipation of the end of “ Homeland” talked about series which basically had no ending. The list of those was endless from “ Knott’s Landing” through to “ Dexter “ where your friendly neighbourhood serial killer ended up as a lumberjack in Canada. Not sure he could ever be trusted with the saw or the axe though. At least “Homeland “ was nicely rounded off with a super twist at the end. Unlike “ In My Skin “ of which we’ve watched 5 episodes from BBC I-Player and can’t find the sixth and final one. I am thinking maybe they didn’t get a chance to finish it before the Big V struck.
So many tv series kill off their main character to bring a series to an end. I thought that “ Van der Valk “ had a sticky ending many years ago, but no, here he is all bright and shiny eyed in the shape of Marc Warren in 21st Century Amsterdam. The theme tune, “ Walk in the Black Forest “ has gone but he soldiers on. It just felt like Dr Who to me with him undergoing yet another re-incarnation and the plot was just as unbelievable.
Now, where was I ? I am struggling to keep track today, I have to admit, but I think where I was going was that my mind is always moving swiftly forward which is why I tend to forget what I promised to write or miss out things that I thought I had written. When I did exams in school it was always my tactic to finish first, shut my writing pad, put my pen away noisily, rise from my desk ensuring my chair scraped along the floor and leave the room even more noisily. I always reckoned the distraction to the other class-mates or students was worth a mark or two advantage. All of that seemed to work very well until on one occasion I didn’t see that there were additional questions on the back of one of the sheets of paper and I missed those out entirely.
I’ve just remembered that when I was at King’s in London and The College of Law we used to sit our exams at Alexandra Palace. There was also a race-course there and on one memorable occasion I dashed through an exam so as not to miss the last three races of an afternoon meeting there. As I recall I lost on all three and didn’t do too well in the exam either.
So, what have I promised to return to and didn’t. Death for one thing. Or person. If you remember I see Death as that kindly character from the Discworld novels ( and please don’t tell me that the Earth isn’t flat and rotates on the backs of four giant elephants as Terry Pratchett suggested, because I won’t believe you ) Death, with his black cloak, huge scythe over his shoulder and his horse called Binky and the niece called Susan. I know I’ve written that before but it feels kind of reassuring to write it again. I’ve remembered to get back to it today because we got a delivery today and I told the deliveryman I felt safe as “ Only the good die young “ and as being neither good nor young I win on both counts.
I talked about knowing when you were going to die and said I would return to the “ how “ and the “ where “ As to where for me I definitely want to die at Wembley Stadium amongst the celebrating Newcastle fans when Newcastle have won the FA Cup for the first time in 100 years ( giving myself a fair bit of time as to the when… ) As to the how I am guessing that won’t be hard if I am standing amongst 60,000 fanatical Geordies. Going to take somebody of sturdier build than me to survive that.
Bit of culture to follow here so you have been warned. Roger McGough wrote a poem called “ Let me Die a Youngman’s Death “ ( unlike my fellow blogger Andrea who often publishes one of her original poems in her blog and vey good they are too … I am sticking to stealing bits from others. ) Mc Gough writes,
“ When I’m 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party.
Or when I’m 91
With silver hair
& sitting in a barber’s chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
& give me a short back and insides “ etc etc
I did trim my hair this morning with the help of my wife, safety razor and beard trimmer so I no longer look like The Wild Man of Borneo ( though why that poor bloke was always selected to signify a scruff I never understood. )
So, there you go
But before I leave my old mate Death to ride off on Binky to have tea with Susan I did think of a book I read years ago by a very under-rated writer called John O’Hara. “Appointment in Samarra” It has a very chilling prologue and as I didn’t use all of McGough’s poem ( even cut the opening verse and the last two verses ) I don’t feel too badly about quoting that prologue in its entirety.
“A merchant in Baghdad sends his servant to the marketplace for provisions. Soon afterwards, the servant comes home white and trembling and tells him that in the marketplace, he was jostled by a woman, whom he recognizes as Death, who made a threatening gesture. Borrowing the merchant’s horse, he flees at great speed to Samarra, a distance of about 75 miles where he believes Death will not find him. The merchant then goes to the marketplace and finds Death and asks why she made the threatening gesture to his servant. She replies “ That was not threatening gesture, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra. “
If your number is up, then your number is up and I guess the answer to all the questions of “ When? “ and “ How? “ and Where? “ is you really don’t want to know. Do you ? Well, certainly not if Death really is female .
There’s no real link here but I was struggling to find a way to return my German version of “ Unorthodox “ to Amazon given that my little friend at the NHS hasn’t come up with any solutions to the problem of how you post it back if you can’t go out. But, my Rabbi Daniel came to the rescue this morning and during our on line Morning Service ( yes there is such a thing and a lot of my non-Jewish readers have said how much they are learning about my crazy religion from this blog ) he offered to pick it up and take it to a local Amazon drop at the supermarket where he shops. I was going to say he was a truly Good Samaritan but not sure that would be a very rabbinical occupation.
Yet again I have a lot of material left over for tomorrow ( which is always a great relief ) I’ve loads to write about what happens post The Big V and the connection between a car chase on the M6 and a Government Adviser and his mistress, There, that’s a cliff hanger and guaranteed you tune in again tomorrow when if spared from being mown down in a barber’s chair ( or more likely by my wife ) I will see you . Stay safe,