I have always been a lover of 70's/80's drama. I find modern day television utterly abhorrent. Reality TV does not appeal and I find myself going back to the 70's and 80's as a source of entertainment. Here are some of the shows that I have been watching over the last couple of months.
'Hattie' - one-off drama about Hattie Jacques, everyone's favourite matron from the 'Carry On' films. This focuses upon Jacques' affair with her driver, John Schofield and her marriage (at the same time) to Dad's Army actor, John Le Mesurier. I had no idea (until I had viewed this drama) that both Jacques and Le Mesurier embarked upon extra-marital affairs during their time together. Hattie moved her young man into the master bedroom, and Le Mesurier moved into the spare room. They both kept up the facade for the public of a happy marriage. At the end of the marriage, Le Mesurier agreed that he would take the blame as the unfaithful party in their divorce case. This was a gripping drama, and made me think lots about the normal, day-to-day things that went on in the lives of these celebrities. Of course, there was no happy ending. Schofield left Jacques for a younger model after several years, and Le Mesurier married again, but he and Jacques still remained friends until her death. Weird chain of events, I think.
'Sun, Sex & Suspicious Parents' - this is pure 'car crash' TV from BBC Three. The basic gist is that it follows a group of young 'uns on their first foreign holiday without mum and dad. What the kids don't know is that the parents are also in the same resort, watching everything that they get up to. It's messy, make no mistake. Why are the young people of today obsessed with drinking 'shots' and drinking until they soil themselves out of every orifice? Utter madness. I think that I only watch it so that I can feel superior. I never went abroad as a teenager with my mates. I never wanted to. I think that I am most definitely in the minority on this one. Most of the kids on this show make me wonder why they were not flushed out as foetuses. Seriously.
'The Good Life' - this was a birthday present. To my shame, I had never watched this series, although I was totally aware of it. I have to confess to being more on the side of the snobbish Leadbitters, rather than the 'holier-than-thou' Goods. Felicity Kendal's Barbara deserved so much more than welly-wearing Richard Briers' Tom. I really rather wanted her to say, 'Fuck your self-sufficiency, I haven't had any new clothes in months and I'm off...goodbye'. Of course, she didn't. Fool.
Monday, 12 November 2012
Lifeguard sleeping, girl drowning **
No real reason for the title of this entry. I just rather liked it. Sums up the general incompetence of people in life, I think.
Life has been good since leaving the hell hole that was the ***. I have finished all assignments for my qualification. This will, hopefully, see me completely change career and do something that I want for a change.
Health issues haven't been terribly good recently, and it seems likely that I will need to start taking medication which I will 'self-inject' on a daily basis. I think that, when this happens, I should perhaps wave goodbye to my love affair with wine of all varieties. Sad, but true.
I have had such a wrangle with myself lately, in terms of not feeling as though I have any real direction or purpose, in a work sense. My personal life is fantastic, couldn't be better. But my professional life is at a grinding halt at the moment. I am doing some voluntary work, to gain experience in the career that I want to have for the rest of my working life. This is good, and makes me feel that I have done completely the right thing. I am filled with regret that I delayed this, and did not do it sooner. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. What is sad is that it often comes too late.
Anyway, in other news, my dad's sixty-odd year old mechanic friend continues to talk to me about his lack of a sex life. I assume that this is because he wants to come across as some trendy bloke that wants to recapture his youth. However, this will not happen whilst he openly admits to me that he 'masturbates, but nothing comes out'. I suggested that he go to the doctor about this, or stop participating in this past-time. I quite simply shudder at the thought of him 'whacking away' of an evening. Having said that, he does service my car for free, so I guess that a bit of 'way too much information' chit-chat has to be endured. Does this make me a bad person?
I have given up on Facebook and Twitter after years of checking on the status updates of people with whom I have little in common. I was becoming a bit obsessed with checking Facebook daily, only to find that the people that I have as 'friends' are not really so. What do I actually have in common with most of them? Some I have not spoken to since school, and even then, they didn't actually speak to me. Why, suddenly, when we reach mid-life, do these people think that you have any similarities? Quite bizarre. I feel much better for freeing myself from the daily checking of updates and tweets. To be honest, I still don't really understand how Twitter works. I thought that I had deactivated my account, and on Saturday, received an email to advise that an 'ex' of mine was following me on Twitter. I found this incredible, as I was on there under an 'alias' with no picture. So, I hastily deactivated my account. I think that, as I get older, I don't want people to know much about me. I would rather be anonymous. Ah, but what of my blog? Well, this is about as anonymous as one can get online, I think.
** Morrissey album track, taken from 'Vauxhall & I' (1994)
Life has been good since leaving the hell hole that was the ***. I have finished all assignments for my qualification. This will, hopefully, see me completely change career and do something that I want for a change.
Health issues haven't been terribly good recently, and it seems likely that I will need to start taking medication which I will 'self-inject' on a daily basis. I think that, when this happens, I should perhaps wave goodbye to my love affair with wine of all varieties. Sad, but true.
I have had such a wrangle with myself lately, in terms of not feeling as though I have any real direction or purpose, in a work sense. My personal life is fantastic, couldn't be better. But my professional life is at a grinding halt at the moment. I am doing some voluntary work, to gain experience in the career that I want to have for the rest of my working life. This is good, and makes me feel that I have done completely the right thing. I am filled with regret that I delayed this, and did not do it sooner. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. What is sad is that it often comes too late.
Anyway, in other news, my dad's sixty-odd year old mechanic friend continues to talk to me about his lack of a sex life. I assume that this is because he wants to come across as some trendy bloke that wants to recapture his youth. However, this will not happen whilst he openly admits to me that he 'masturbates, but nothing comes out'. I suggested that he go to the doctor about this, or stop participating in this past-time. I quite simply shudder at the thought of him 'whacking away' of an evening. Having said that, he does service my car for free, so I guess that a bit of 'way too much information' chit-chat has to be endured. Does this make me a bad person?
I have given up on Facebook and Twitter after years of checking on the status updates of people with whom I have little in common. I was becoming a bit obsessed with checking Facebook daily, only to find that the people that I have as 'friends' are not really so. What do I actually have in common with most of them? Some I have not spoken to since school, and even then, they didn't actually speak to me. Why, suddenly, when we reach mid-life, do these people think that you have any similarities? Quite bizarre. I feel much better for freeing myself from the daily checking of updates and tweets. To be honest, I still don't really understand how Twitter works. I thought that I had deactivated my account, and on Saturday, received an email to advise that an 'ex' of mine was following me on Twitter. I found this incredible, as I was on there under an 'alias' with no picture. So, I hastily deactivated my account. I think that, as I get older, I don't want people to know much about me. I would rather be anonymous. Ah, but what of my blog? Well, this is about as anonymous as one can get online, I think.
** Morrissey album track, taken from 'Vauxhall & I' (1994)
Friday, 20 July 2012
I'm Tired Of Getting Pushed Around.......
**The title of each blog entry will now be something appropriate to the author's mood. There is one rule, however. It must be the title of a song. Artists name at foot of blog entry**
After an obscene hiatus from blogging, our protagonist, Madam Noir begins to mull over what she can possibly say that is of the slightest interest to her two (yes, that's right - two) followers. It's true, these last 6 months have not been the best, career-wise.
January - got a job temping in recruitment. Was forever referred to as' the temp' or 'our temp'. This was only supposed to be a 12-week thing, something to see her through financially as she reluctantly made some improvements to the rented accommodation that her 'piece of shit' relations had trashed over a prolonged period of time. More fool her for letting them do it.
February - continued in dead-end role. Spent what seemed like 3 weeks waiting for the 'powers that be' to allow her access to company email and t'internet. Colleagues were nice enough, apart from one girl who viewed her as a threat. She was a guppy-eyed, bleached blonde lass from Peterlee (the colleague, not Madam Noir). She naturally felt threatened, given her lot in life. Madam Noir tried her best to be 'nice' (god, how she hates that word ' 'nice'.......so insipid) and chatted to her when she could. You see, Madam N was very much a believer in the school of thought that says if someone is gives off signals that they don't like you...then you are duty bound to be as 'over-the-top', sickly nice to them. This confuses the shit out of them, obviously. One girl was canny - she had red hair and yellow teeth. Nice girl, friendly, hadn't been on the team long, was also a 'temp' prior to her permanent appointment. See, the underdogs must stick together. The meek shall inherit, and all that...
March - as February, but now blonde, guppy-faced Peterlee lass now 'warming' to Madam Noir slightly. Perhaps because Madam N single-handedly did enough of her scanning to last her to the menopause. Possibly. Madam N realised at this point that she should probably be looking for another job. By the very nature of the word, 'temp' means just that. As in, short life-span. Whatever.
April - as Feb/March........tick, tock, tick, tock (boring myself now by just thinking about the banality of it all).
May - May 5th was Madam N's last day there. They bought her wine (she drank it), flowers (they went straight in the bin.....she couldn't be bothered to fanny on looking for a vase) and chocolates ('Dairy Box' - unpleasant in the extreme). Still, it's the thought that counts, eh? She signed on at the jobcentre and they took a whole month to work out that she was owed some money. No wonder this country is going to the dogs.
June - period of 'resting'. Then was summoned for interview by an agency. They had secured an interview for Madam N at a well known public sector company. She attended the 'interview'. It was the most bizarre experience - not one question asked about her ability to do the role that they were offering. No mention of her previous experience. She left feeling utterly confused. As she drove home, the agency called. They wanted to offer her the job, loved her, thought that she would fit in really well (as they apparently 'recruit for personality'). She accepted, but was left feeling totally amazed at the decision.
She eventually lasted 3 weeks in the role. They didn't provide any training, when she asked questions, she wasn't given a decent explanation, they were all very 'clique-y'. And to make things worse, they all banged on about that bloody 'Fifty Shades of Grey' book. She should have taken that as a sign....
she went out for lunch one day and received a call from the agency. The company had called them to say that 'things weren't working out' (no kidding!?) and that she could leave at the end of the day or at the end of the week. She returned to the office, collected her belongings and left, feeling such sweet relief as she sashayed out of the building.
And so, onto July. After much thought, Madam N has decided to have a period where she does not work. She will study during this time, and may get some part time work. But, why does a job have to define who you are? Surely Madam Noir is no less a person because, almost 40 years into her life, she has realised that she doesn't want to do what she has always done. Some go their whole lives, fooling themselves that they love their job. Not her.
So.....we shall see.
Two Men, A Drum Machine and A Trumpet.
After an obscene hiatus from blogging, our protagonist, Madam Noir begins to mull over what she can possibly say that is of the slightest interest to her two (yes, that's right - two) followers. It's true, these last 6 months have not been the best, career-wise.
January - got a job temping in recruitment. Was forever referred to as' the temp' or 'our temp'. This was only supposed to be a 12-week thing, something to see her through financially as she reluctantly made some improvements to the rented accommodation that her 'piece of shit' relations had trashed over a prolonged period of time. More fool her for letting them do it.
February - continued in dead-end role. Spent what seemed like 3 weeks waiting for the 'powers that be' to allow her access to company email and t'internet. Colleagues were nice enough, apart from one girl who viewed her as a threat. She was a guppy-eyed, bleached blonde lass from Peterlee (the colleague, not Madam Noir). She naturally felt threatened, given her lot in life. Madam Noir tried her best to be 'nice' (god, how she hates that word ' 'nice'.......so insipid) and chatted to her when she could. You see, Madam N was very much a believer in the school of thought that says if someone is gives off signals that they don't like you...then you are duty bound to be as 'over-the-top', sickly nice to them. This confuses the shit out of them, obviously. One girl was canny - she had red hair and yellow teeth. Nice girl, friendly, hadn't been on the team long, was also a 'temp' prior to her permanent appointment. See, the underdogs must stick together. The meek shall inherit, and all that...
March - as February, but now blonde, guppy-faced Peterlee lass now 'warming' to Madam Noir slightly. Perhaps because Madam N single-handedly did enough of her scanning to last her to the menopause. Possibly. Madam N realised at this point that she should probably be looking for another job. By the very nature of the word, 'temp' means just that. As in, short life-span. Whatever.
April - as Feb/March........tick, tock, tick, tock (boring myself now by just thinking about the banality of it all).
May - May 5th was Madam N's last day there. They bought her wine (she drank it), flowers (they went straight in the bin.....she couldn't be bothered to fanny on looking for a vase) and chocolates ('Dairy Box' - unpleasant in the extreme). Still, it's the thought that counts, eh? She signed on at the jobcentre and they took a whole month to work out that she was owed some money. No wonder this country is going to the dogs.
June - period of 'resting'. Then was summoned for interview by an agency. They had secured an interview for Madam N at a well known public sector company. She attended the 'interview'. It was the most bizarre experience - not one question asked about her ability to do the role that they were offering. No mention of her previous experience. She left feeling utterly confused. As she drove home, the agency called. They wanted to offer her the job, loved her, thought that she would fit in really well (as they apparently 'recruit for personality'). She accepted, but was left feeling totally amazed at the decision.
She eventually lasted 3 weeks in the role. They didn't provide any training, when she asked questions, she wasn't given a decent explanation, they were all very 'clique-y'. And to make things worse, they all banged on about that bloody 'Fifty Shades of Grey' book. She should have taken that as a sign....
she went out for lunch one day and received a call from the agency. The company had called them to say that 'things weren't working out' (no kidding!?) and that she could leave at the end of the day or at the end of the week. She returned to the office, collected her belongings and left, feeling such sweet relief as she sashayed out of the building.
And so, onto July. After much thought, Madam N has decided to have a period where she does not work. She will study during this time, and may get some part time work. But, why does a job have to define who you are? Surely Madam Noir is no less a person because, almost 40 years into her life, she has realised that she doesn't want to do what she has always done. Some go their whole lives, fooling themselves that they love their job. Not her.
So.....we shall see.
Two Men, A Drum Machine and A Trumpet.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
A Bum Steer
I have been plagued for some time now by haemorrhoids (have I spelt that correctly? No...ok...PILES then). This has gone on since last year when I went through all of the stress of redundancy at Shitty Central. I had been to the doctor last year, a locum with a comedy face. Rather 'Bo Selecta', I thought. And Indian to boot. Tragic, really. Anyway, I have endured six months worth of Movicol and Anusol, etc, etc. Went back to quack this afternoon. He motioned to me - I understood his intentions - that I was to remove trousers and undercrackers immediately whilst he examined the offending pustule. The prescription? Fybogel. If that fails to work, then we will work our way through the various 'pensioner-tastic' remedies on the market until we find one that jolly well works. Oh joy!!!
Monday, 26 March 2012
The Regina Monologues
Ah, it has been a funny old 3 months. Left my rather well-paid job at the end of December. Realised that I couldn't cope any longer with working alongside fuckwits. Took the money and ran like the wind. Had a lovely Christmas in Blackpool, and a couple of weeks off in January. Then into another job, similar to the one that I had but less well paid and with significantly fewer (i.e. no) fuckwits. Result.
Am sitting here sipping red wine and listening to ipod (current track - 'Puss in Boots' by Adam Ant.....
Have realised that, facially, I am turning into my mother. Approaching mid-life with a wry smile and plenty of Dermologica moisturiser.
When I think of something interesting to write, you'll be the first to know........watch this space. x
Am sitting here sipping red wine and listening to ipod (current track - 'Puss in Boots' by Adam Ant.....
Have realised that, facially, I am turning into my mother. Approaching mid-life with a wry smile and plenty of Dermologica moisturiser.
When I think of something interesting to write, you'll be the first to know........watch this space. x
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Madam Noir's best Brat-Pack films....ever!
1. 'The Outsiders' - great film, based on a story written by S E Hinton. I'm assuming that she had no affiliation with the mighty 'Hinton's' supermarket chain of the 70's/early 80's (taken over by another mighty conglomerate - 'Presto'). Anyway, I have gone off on a tangent. This is a great movie. It's like the 'Who's Who' of Brat-Pack films. My favourite (sweet little Ralph Macchio) gets burned in a church fire saving some Deep South skip-rats. The story is of two rival gangs - the Greasers and the Socs. Fab.
2. 'St. Elmo's Fire' - 1985 film. Appalling theme toon (thank you, John 'one-hit wonder' Parr). Rob Lowe fucks his way around town. Even manages to 'bone' a bird who works at the dole office and wears appalling support stockings (the bird, not Rob Lowe). Best bit? Where perpetual loser and wimpy kid, Andrew McCarthy, gets to knob Ally Sheedy. Hurray for the underdog!!
3. 'Pretty In Pink' - Molly Ringwald (ginger-lass made good) and Andrew McCarthy (he plays a rich high school sort who wears cricket jumpers) go to the school dance. No fucking plot - just real 'feel good' stuff. Her best friend ('Duckie') was uber-annoying. As Woody Allen would have said 'what I wouldn't give for a sockful of wet manure'.......
4. 'About Last Night' - coming of age relationship film where Rob Lowe shags Demi Moore on the biggest bean bag I have ever seen. And in the shower too. Mind you, the grouting was fucking filthy - this was clearly in the days before Cillit Bang had arrived. Brief synopsis - they meet in a bar, shag each other stupid, move in, he puts twin dressing-gown pegs on the bathroom door....then it all goes tits-up. Let that be a lesson to you all.
5. 'Youngblood' - Rob Lowe plays an ice-hockey player. I think he shags some lady on a very woolly rug by a fire, as I recall. Other than that, I forget what the plot is....
6. 'The Karate Kid' (1/2//3). However, I rather think that they should have stopped after number 1. I adored Ralph Macchio, although due to a congenital condition, whilst he was well into his 20's when he played the part of Daniel LaRusso, he actually looked about 15. The he went and spoilt it all by marrying some lass called 'Phyllis'. I mean - 'Phyllis' - would you???? He was also a shite actor, but I just couldn't see it back then.
7. 'Risky Business' - Tom Cruise and his teeth do something about setting up a date/call-girl thing. I forget, frankly, but remember that he shagged Rebecca de Mornay in front of some French windows on a stormy night. The windows thrust open, at about the same time as Rebecca de Mornay's dress fell off, I recall.
8. 'The Breakfast Club' - I found Judd Nelson to be hilarious in this film - he was the 'bad lad' who got detention on a Saturday with 4 other kids ('a brain, a beauty, a jock and a recluse'). Absolutely first class stuff - genius!
9. 'Dirty Dancing' - OK, it was shite, I suppose, but an iconic film from my youth. Patrick Swayze, Jennifer Grey (and her huge snout), great music. What's not to love? Nobody puts baby in the corner....
10. 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' - genius from John Hughes (RIP). Three friends skive off school, take a classic car for a spin and get up to no good. Jennifer Grey (and her huge snout) make an appearance as Bueller's sister who wants to grass him up. But, our Ferris manages to out-do her!!
2. 'St. Elmo's Fire' - 1985 film. Appalling theme toon (thank you, John 'one-hit wonder' Parr). Rob Lowe fucks his way around town. Even manages to 'bone' a bird who works at the dole office and wears appalling support stockings (the bird, not Rob Lowe). Best bit? Where perpetual loser and wimpy kid, Andrew McCarthy, gets to knob Ally Sheedy. Hurray for the underdog!!
3. 'Pretty In Pink' - Molly Ringwald (ginger-lass made good) and Andrew McCarthy (he plays a rich high school sort who wears cricket jumpers) go to the school dance. No fucking plot - just real 'feel good' stuff. Her best friend ('Duckie') was uber-annoying. As Woody Allen would have said 'what I wouldn't give for a sockful of wet manure'.......
4. 'About Last Night' - coming of age relationship film where Rob Lowe shags Demi Moore on the biggest bean bag I have ever seen. And in the shower too. Mind you, the grouting was fucking filthy - this was clearly in the days before Cillit Bang had arrived. Brief synopsis - they meet in a bar, shag each other stupid, move in, he puts twin dressing-gown pegs on the bathroom door....then it all goes tits-up. Let that be a lesson to you all.
5. 'Youngblood' - Rob Lowe plays an ice-hockey player. I think he shags some lady on a very woolly rug by a fire, as I recall. Other than that, I forget what the plot is....
6. 'The Karate Kid' (1/2//3). However, I rather think that they should have stopped after number 1. I adored Ralph Macchio, although due to a congenital condition, whilst he was well into his 20's when he played the part of Daniel LaRusso, he actually looked about 15. The he went and spoilt it all by marrying some lass called 'Phyllis'. I mean - 'Phyllis' - would you???? He was also a shite actor, but I just couldn't see it back then.
7. 'Risky Business' - Tom Cruise and his teeth do something about setting up a date/call-girl thing. I forget, frankly, but remember that he shagged Rebecca de Mornay in front of some French windows on a stormy night. The windows thrust open, at about the same time as Rebecca de Mornay's dress fell off, I recall.
8. 'The Breakfast Club' - I found Judd Nelson to be hilarious in this film - he was the 'bad lad' who got detention on a Saturday with 4 other kids ('a brain, a beauty, a jock and a recluse'). Absolutely first class stuff - genius!
9. 'Dirty Dancing' - OK, it was shite, I suppose, but an iconic film from my youth. Patrick Swayze, Jennifer Grey (and her huge snout), great music. What's not to love? Nobody puts baby in the corner....
10. 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' - genius from John Hughes (RIP). Three friends skive off school, take a classic car for a spin and get up to no good. Jennifer Grey (and her huge snout) make an appearance as Bueller's sister who wants to grass him up. But, our Ferris manages to out-do her!!
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Will December be magic (again)?
It is 2 weeks until Christmas. I am jobless in 3 weeks. I was cleaning a cupboard last night and found some old childhood books. Got extremely nostalgic, then extremely upset (possibly rioja-induced, I am unsure) I have applied for a few roles, none of which have come to anything yet. I was interviewed for a role last week, one for which I am clearly over-qualified. I read with interest on the Reed website this morning that this job has just been advertised with them. So, by careful deduction, I assume that I have not been successful. Not the end of the world, the travel there and back would have been a killer (40+ miles each day).
My colleagues continue to make me wonder why abortion was not made compulsory after 1981. They truly are cunts. No, like...seriously. One of them feels that it is her life's work to email as many of her friends as possible, whilst surfing the Argos website for cheap tat for her grubby little kids. The other is just fucking lucky to be there. I shall walk away on 30th December with no regret, just sweet relief that I don't have to spend another day there listening to and smelling terminal bullshit.
The most wonderful time of the year? Err, let me be the judge of that, eh? I really dislike Christmas, all of that forced, make-believe frivolity. It will be my combined Christmas and leaving 'do' next Friday. I feel sure that I shall be irritated by the general 'falseness' of it all. I aim to just have my meal (paid for by the bastarding company - think I may possibly choke on every mouthful - bastards) and then leave. Do you know, reader, they haven't even sent out my letter regarding my severance, leave date - nitto, nada....fucking nowt. I fully expect to have the mother of all fights on my hands in order to:
a) get the money
b) get the right amount of money
c) get it before the end of January - a mighty month after I will have 'left the building' (a la Elvis)
It's a good job there are no breweries around requiring 'a good drink', as these twats wouldn't know where the hell to start.
But, I am trying to look forward to Christmas as best I can. I have no decorations, no tree, no cards. But, on a positive note, I have all of my presents bought (although not yet wrapped). I am filling my evenings watching old Brat-Pack films, eating mince pies and slurping red wine.
Merry Christmas, everyone xx
My colleagues continue to make me wonder why abortion was not made compulsory after 1981. They truly are cunts. No, like...seriously. One of them feels that it is her life's work to email as many of her friends as possible, whilst surfing the Argos website for cheap tat for her grubby little kids. The other is just fucking lucky to be there. I shall walk away on 30th December with no regret, just sweet relief that I don't have to spend another day there listening to and smelling terminal bullshit.
The most wonderful time of the year? Err, let me be the judge of that, eh? I really dislike Christmas, all of that forced, make-believe frivolity. It will be my combined Christmas and leaving 'do' next Friday. I feel sure that I shall be irritated by the general 'falseness' of it all. I aim to just have my meal (paid for by the bastarding company - think I may possibly choke on every mouthful - bastards) and then leave. Do you know, reader, they haven't even sent out my letter regarding my severance, leave date - nitto, nada....fucking nowt. I fully expect to have the mother of all fights on my hands in order to:
a) get the money
b) get the right amount of money
c) get it before the end of January - a mighty month after I will have 'left the building' (a la Elvis)
It's a good job there are no breweries around requiring 'a good drink', as these twats wouldn't know where the hell to start.
But, I am trying to look forward to Christmas as best I can. I have no decorations, no tree, no cards. But, on a positive note, I have all of my presents bought (although not yet wrapped). I am filling my evenings watching old Brat-Pack films, eating mince pies and slurping red wine.
Merry Christmas, everyone xx
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