The third week of “lockdown” is about to commence and apparently, it’s Easter weekend as well. You’d never guess as the whole concept of time has been distorted to the degree we barely know what day it is. Thankfully there are 2 reminders for me – 1, my journal writing and 2, I have my vitamin pills in one of those 7 day pillbox dispensers.

Today is Tuesday.

Christ, I’m starting to sound like a “Play School” presenter. Did Hamble ever have ANY fans and admirers? No… my hands remain where they are as well… and I never “got” Sooty either and my impression of him in the nude is the oldest joke I know.

Here we all are, cloistered indoors bored out of our minds. It’s sod’s law that January to March saw an almost endless barrage of bad weather, then we get forced into “lockdown” and it’s been warm with near continual sunshine ever since. February and the Libertalia adventure feels like a lifetime ago. I am missing my pals. Badly. My throat is phlegmy because my vocal cords are not getting any exercise save for a couple of phone calls from my Mum each week. Oh, and occasional murmured curses aimed at neighbours.

I’m just doing stream of consciousness rambling here to pass some time as we have far too much of it to overdose on. Anything to fill some space here and remind the world that we are still “active” whilst staying quiet on social media. I have absolutely nothing to say or add to this virus saga… well, no. The translation of that last sentence reads “I have tons to say about this virus saga but am keeping quiet for a variety of reasons”. Why didn’t I say that in the first place? Why do too many people still keep buying newspapers and watching “news” on TV? This last month has proved a thousandfold why I despise the media with a burning passion. They’re doing a magnificent job in keeping most feeling fed up and scared. I DON’T watch TV. I just read bits about it and their ever ticking virus death counters… hmmm. One suspects Piers Morgan is aiming for the next Queen’s Honours List. Arise Sir Piers? Throw him off the end of one of the three we have at high tide would be more to my liking.

The lines between reality and surreality are being densely explored in the journal. Seriously. I never imagined I’d write so much in there. I have seen some on social media suggest we keep journals to document this “unprecedented” time in history (by the way, can I declare I despise the word “unprecedented”?) whereas for me, it’s business as normal as journal writing is now firmly embedded into my DNA. Each day I’m averaging between 3500 to 4000 words. Too much time to think so, pouring tons in the journal in a vague attempt to try and make some sense of what this is all about.

And what is this all about? Answers on a postcard to Blue Peter, BBC Television, London SW1. Ha… that’s been one of the too few pleasures lately, watching some editions of that much maligned show dating from 1966 to 1976. There’s an odd few floating around, all timely reminders of the Genius that was John Noakes. I watched one from 1971 the other night and it had this odd Yorkshire woman making this peculiar savoury cake of which nettles were one ingredient. Peter Purves, Valerie Singleton and the legendary Noakes are expected to have a taste of this green mush. Noakes sniffs the “cake” pulls a face and mutters an apology saying he can’t stomach ONIONS. He later said that he couldn’t abide cheese, tomato and onion. Ah… that’s my language. Cheese I can handle in small doses but tomato and onion are guaranteed to make me retch. The SMELL of them make me feel queasy. The taste? Sorry. I have to spit it out. My grandfather was the same… hated onions with a passion.

Well, there you go, you learned something new about me there – some foods I hate. And why all of a sudden are too many people using the hateful “Y’ALL” thing? That’s the first of two times you’ll ever see THAT “word” on this blog.

Yeah, you could say I’m a bit cranky. Better than being a Krankie. Fan-Dabi-Dozi? Christ, the stuff of which the worst nightmares are made. Even as a kid, The Krankies bewildered me. Come on, they were and remain a peculiar act. Memories of “Crackerjack!” with the dreaded Stu Francis in the early 80’s. Ah yes, Stu and his witless phrases like “Ooh, I could crush a grape”, “I could frighten a fairy”, “I could wrestle an action man”… those phrases are genuine and I know because I heard him using them in the space of three minutes when I looked at an episode a week or so ago… all in the name of research I hasten to add, and yes, on came The Krankies and it reminded me that the world has ALWAYS been completely insane.

Older readers (than me) may even recall that Little and Large were regulars on “Crackerjack!” back in 1972 and of course Eddie Large passed away a few days ago. Just a passing mention as we happen to be talking about “Crackerjack!” Yeah, how many Crackerjack pencils still exist? Are they being handed out now on the “reboot” that’s been shown recently? NOTE – another word I hate – REBOOT. Oh, and RETRO stinks as well.

The mind goes into dark places during times of darkness… You know something is wrong when one sits here watching old editions of “Play School”, “Blue Peter” and “Crackerjack!” I haven’t even gotten started on “Grange Hill” and “Rainbow” yet… I have every episode of the first 12 series of the former and around 100 of the latter from 1972 to 1979. I also now have all but three episodes of “The Tube” – the infamous Channel 4 TV show that thrust Jools Holland onto TV screens and my God… a potent time capsule of the 1980’s, crap clothes and big hair galore. Last night I watched one with Mari Wilson… always liked her but that beehive, my GOD that beehive…

So. Remember.

I hate the words – UNPRECEDENTED, Y’ALL, REBOOT and RETRO (hey, there’s many more but we’ll add those in the future… maybe)

I can’t stomach ONIONS and TOMATOES. (We’ll also add GARLIC, CHILLI and BRUSSEL SPROUTS)

And that’s the end of the snooze…

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