Well it's
still too cocking well hot but I've managed to recover
from yesterday's fatigue and I think I might be able
to string more than a couple of sentences together (although
I can't promise they will be either humorous or interesting).
Been writing since early morning today so come about
6.30pm, what with the heat and me being a rather work
shy Yorkshire pudding, I decided to lie down in the
bedroom for 10mins. I had put the TV on and soon fell
asleep; when I woke up I was thrown completely by seeing
Noel Edmunds and Deal or No Deal on the box. Had I slept
until Tuesday afternoon? Had I fallen into such deep
slumber that I had actually gone back in time and it
was now two hours before I had gone to sleep? No, turns
out that the inevitable has happened and Deal or No
Deal has gone primetime (as well as still running in
the afternoons) and quite right too; I think two half
hour helpings of DOND a day should be the absolute minimum
on channel 4. It did remind me, many years ago, of the
time my Nana fell asleep one very hot Sunday evening
at my parents house. It was the middle of Summer and
my Nana was having her usual post Sunday dinner nap,
four cardigans on, head tilted back, mouth open and
making a noise like a broken espresso machine. My brother
and I were obsessed with the film The Sting (as I still
am) and we whooped with joy when we were allowed to
put it on yet again. It was better watching it with
other people because my brother and I would take much
pleasure in irritating them by joining in with most
of the dialogue, "You see that fella in the red
sweater over there? His name's Donnie McCoy. Works a
few of the protection rackets for Cunnaro when he's
waiting for something better to happen. Donnie and I
have known each other since we were six. Take a good
look at that face, Floyd. Because if he ever finds out
I can be beat by one lousy grifter, I'll have to kill
him and every other hood who wants to muscle in on my
Chicago operation" and as the credits rolled my
Nana stirred and her eyes gently focused on the telly.
By this time the film credits had ended but he video
tape was still running (we had recorded the film from
the TV a few Xmas's ago) and we now had a BBC logo covered
in snow and the presenter wishing us "good night
and a very merry Christmas". My Nana's reaction
still makes me laugh, "fucking hell, how long have
I been asleep?". Yes, my Nana swore like a trooper
(no wonder writing for Catherine Tate's old woman character
came so easily) and although I still don't know if she
was trying to raise a laugh or was genuinely confused,
it remains one of my few vivid teenage memories from
family life in Hull. Right, it's cooled down a bit now,
I'm off back to bed as soon as I can find my collectors
edition DVD of The Sting.
