“Waiter there’s a fly in my house.”
“Don’t worry sir. It’ll be dead in 7-10 days.”
The reason for this unusual and slightly silly start to today’s blog is that there was in fact a fly in my house today. In the bathroom to be precise.
There I was, minding my own business whilst in fact doing my own business when I was buzzed by a fly. Initially I thought little of it and then it hit me. No, not the fly. The realisation that being winter, there shouldn’t be a fly in my bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter.
“Why aren’t you in a cocoon ?”, I asked, not expecting an answer. Which, as it turned out, was just as well.
The fly was clearly not in 100% health as it landed on the floor a few times and each time it would stagger around a bit before flying up to the ceiling for a few seconds and then the cycle was repeated. Initially I was in no position to do much about it and anyway, the magazine article was too interesting to abandon ! Once finished, I waited for the fly to land on the floor again and it was so out of it that catching it was no problem. With a quick flush, I sent it on its way to some local treatment plant or maybe the Leeds-Liverpool canal.
Who knows !
I have been keeping the house slightly warmer than usual this winter so maybe cocoon boy thought it was summer, came out early and got the shock of its very short life. C’est la vie !
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I watched an episode of NCIS this afternoon. I’m 36 episodes behind so need to have a bit of a viewing fest to catch up. The one I watched, the season 11 finale, had the storyline where Gibbs was told his father had died due to a stoke. This came about because in real life, the actor who played his father was Ralph Waite and he had died 3 months earlier at the age of 85.
Of course those of us of a certain age on both sides of the pond (and elsewhere I’m sure) chiefly remember Ralph Waite as John Walton Sr in 196 episodes of The Waltons from 1972 to 1981.
The NCIS episode was sentimental without being mawkish and at the end they had a lovely still photo of Ralph Waite with Mark Harmon (Gibbs) with a fade to black. Classy.
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For a complete change of genre, in the late evening I watched the latest Tarantino blood fest, “The Hateful Eight“. At nearly 3 hrs long it did drag a bit but then that is the way with a Tarantino movie. Lots of long positioning shots, numerous slow build ups and then the inevitable bloodbath with us never knowing who, if anyone, is going to be left standing when the gun smoke clears.
I’m not sure why Ennio Morricone won the Golden Globe for the movie’s music as I didn’t find it memorable in any way. He’s also up for the Oscar gong and in fact the movie only got 3 nominations which is very unusual for a Tarantino movie.
Again I think Morricone will be the only winner.
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An entry for today in my 1970 diary was interesting. I’d gone to the (school) dentist in Cushendall to have a crown fitted on a lower right molar. It was a gold crown and I still have it in place to this day. On another visit in 1970 I had two crowns on two of my front teeth and despite being told they’d last 10 years at best, I’ve also still got them 46 years later.
I don’t know if superglue had been invented back in 1970 but whatever dental fixative that dentist used was clearly the biz. Old school in fact !
I know. I’m groaning too.
Retirement Rocks 