So it's finally over. What a week! There was tension, there were tears. At times the suspense was unbearable. The waiting, the uncertainty, the nagging sense of unfairness. But that's enough about the endless struggle to get our broadband service restored.
And what about Britain's Got Telephones and Piers Morgan's Got A Nerve Judging Any Talent Contest, then? I, personally, was happy that George won, but I hope we, the nation, haven't given him a permanent cold. For what it's now worth (i.e. nothing) I wanted Andrew the choir boy to win. Why? Because he was actually doing something age appropriate. In other words he sounded exactly like what a wonderful thirteen year old boy treble should sound like. The rest of the junior acts may well have had talent, but they were all somehow precocious, or being judged for doing something that would not have been so remarkable if done by someone ten years older. Faryl is a lovely singer but she will still have that in ten years' time. Andrew's gift will be gone in a few months. Why not let him be rewarded for it in its full bloom? Ah, but that's me, isn't it? Strange fringe dwelling attitudes all the way.
Back to the real drama. Mr. Pipex decided that we should spend less time on the net and gave us about half the week with no option but to talk to each other. Good job there was Britain's Got Talent to discuss. My wife insisted on calling it "Has Britain Got Talent?", which the rest of us regularly enjoyed as a starting point for discussion. Apart from that it was back to making our own entertainment, which is one of those overrated Victorian virtues that ranks alongside shoving children up chimneys. With one exception. Jake decided to invent a running account of bad behaviour in the household, and stuck up a "Board of Naughty People" on the fridge. This proved a lively focal point for free and frank discussion, especially between him and his sister, who ended up accusing each other of the crime of 'existing'.
I have nearly finished writing the book, but I have hardly started on revising it. How bold should I be? Being a maverick with strange opinions might draw a little attention for a while, but what if those opinions are simply wrong? This is the major difference, I suspect, between writing a book and doing homework. (Or writing a blog. Are you listening, internet?) Problem Two is that history expands in all directions constantly the longer you look at it. so, where to stop? I think the red pen may be about to jump out of a long forgotten drawer somewhere.
Apart from that: Carlisle Utd blew promotion, we went to a private view in Cork Street but didn't buy anything, it has rained a great deal, and I am one year older. Probably the biggest news is that I played on a record again! Or at least I played on something that might become a record soon. There is a cute young Danish band called Alphabeat and one of their tunes was in the garage in England getting a new engine. Part of the refit involved me. Watch this space.
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Update:
I have appeared on the Board of Naughty People as 'swearer'.