September 6th
I appear to be on the cusp of being welcomed into a revered privileged group, often referred to as 'the retired' or if more longer term 'the elderly'. Quite how or when one moves from one to the other is hard to gauge. Though I am still ten months away from reaching the official retirement age, things are apparently already cranking up in anticipation. Preempting the signs and symptoms of my incipient physical decline. I've started to get regular notifications from the local health centre in Sheringham, recently about the upcoming Flu & Covid vaccinations for those over 50. And requests to be part of a screening programme for those 65 and over to check the size of my abdominal aorta. Sounded serious.
The latter I had done yesterday. Booked for mid- afternoon, but due to a large number of folk pulling out, I was asked to come in midday. I arrived and barely waited a minute before being summoned, laid down and exposing my stomach to a complete stranger, who then smeared it with transparent gel similar to KY. All of which would be kinky in any other context. This young chap of indeterminate age, channeled his being really pissed off about the late cancellations, pressed deeply into my stomach area with something that looked for all the world like a bar code reader. Apologising frequently for the discomfort he assumed he was causing me. The result provided an all clear.- I was not a pack of blood sausages after all. My aorta the approximate right size, no blockages, no preternaturally narrow veins. Probably wont need to have it checked again. Which is reassuring, as a blocked aorta sounds like a rather dangerous, bloody and explosive experience. I have once again been saved by my relatively healthy physical being.
September 7th
As nights draw in sooner and dawn occurs later, a whole new morning routine begins to assert itself. The mornings when its warm enough to sit out and contemplate the sun rising are becoming rarer. I return to watching dodgy American history programmes about prehistory on You Tube where they pronounce volcanics - vulcanicks. At any moment you expect the role of God and his prophet Noah, to be summoned to explain the demise of every early civilisation.
It's occurred to me lately that perhaps we have all developed a shorter attention spans, simply by the increased intrusion of adverts into programmes. You may want to blame it on 'the youth of today' or social media, but it started a longtime before any of that. You are watching an involving documentary on the French Impressionists say, interrupted every five minutes with adverts for anything from Warcraft games, Chromebook, Norwegian cruises, financial advisors, or sanitary pads. The focus constantly being broken and shifted. Its worse than buffering. Its a bit like someone nudging your elbow every time you are about to paint a very fine delicate line.
Those who know me reasonably well, will also know my fondness for history programmes or anything with an archaeological theme. I'm a big fan of Time Team and have watched all the series, some episodes more than once. So I was intrigued to see what Digging for Treasure, on Channel 5, with Dan Walker, Michelle Strachan and Raksha Dave ( an ex Tine Team regular) would be like. Its filmed in real time, as finds emerge from a phalanx of metal detectorists. The finds tent is inhabited by an irritating gaggle of people always ready to clap and whoop to order. Its a totally inane programme format, a mixture of a poorly resourced Time Team with The One Show. What follows is in the style of, just to give you a flavour of it. This is not verbatim.
'And here's Martin who discovered today's star find a bent bronze pin, give him a round of applause everyone. I believe this is the first thing you've ever found in tweny five years of being a detectorist, Martin. There's dedication for you. Worth a further round of applause I'd say. Corr look what that looks like under a microscope, beautiful. What do you think it is? Its a pin for holding a cloak together. So Gary you are the finds specialist. What's it worth? You think it would be unethical were you to tell me. Lets go back to Michelle and see if she's still visible in a completely open field at dusk'.
I watched ten minutes, leaving at the first ad break. I think I had a very lucky escape.
Well, I've got this far without a mention of our new Muppet Prime Minister Liz Truss. I have this uneasy feeling that we have quietly entered another realm where what was once satire has now become our lived reality. Where someone who is clearly unsuited to high office finds themselves nonetheless thrown into a position of great responsibility. What might be a funny satire on screen is pretty scary in reality. Because all our worst fears now seem perfectly reasonable. Anything is now on the table of possible outcomes. Some obscure and unaccountable Tory Think Tank is now manipulating the body politic by funneling ideas through Liz Truss's rectum. So if you think she doesn't know what she's talking about, its because she doesn't. She is the Queen of the half baked idea. And the Tory Think Tank? Well that's a contradiction in terms. Its not really one nation Toryism, more corporate led authoritarianism. It can't really Think. But it will take a Tank and run over all opposition, resistance and rights. This is also much much worse than buffering.
September 13th
So the QE2 has died, and we are now in a 'national period of mourning' which is itself proving to be a weird conception. Everyone from Anne Summers to your local kebab shop release statements of sadness at her death. Putting a headline banner photo over their wares, whether that be sexy underwear, vibrating dildos or brazed meat. As if she regularly sent the footman out for all those things. But this desire to be visible in your appreciation of the late monarch, conceals a deeper ambivalence towards its future under Chas the Third. In fact to merely state your opposition to it in public could get you arrested for civil disturbance. Is this some form of state approved version of 'cancel culture'?
I have not in the past made a secret of my views on the monarchy. In my view it infantilises us all. As is superbly demonstrated by people leaving marmalade sandwiches instead of flowers, as tributes. All because the Queen once did a skit with Paddington the Bear. I know I am out of sync with the majority of the general public on the monarchy. But this blanket period of 'mourning' does appear to compel people to self conform to expectations, even republicans. And they are doing so in bizzarely I'll thought out acts of sentimental allegiance.
Meanwhile, Sheringham has the dreaded return of the 1940's Weekend coming up on 17th and 18th. If a real war in Europe taking place right in front of us, where people's homes and lives are being shattered, doesn't make this a highly inappropriate event, then a funeral for a deceased queen the following day, is apparently, not going to stop it either. We are going to be closed on the Monday, because it will be as quiet as the Queen's waiting grave in town. Whilst I am no lover of the monarchy as an entity. I hold some regard for the late Queen as a moral exemplar of what duty and service really are. Which our politicians should take note of. On a ordinary human level someone has died that was worthy of respect.
I sense there is a generally diminished level of enthusiasm for 1940's weekend in town. Usually the preparations for start the moment the August Bank Holiday finishes. Here we are, just four days away, and only a smattering of shops with their window displays sorted, most of them charity shops. Maybe there is more than us who think its all a bit inappropriate. It always has been an oddly surreal event, perhaps the current circumstances make that more apparent. Like the 'national period of mourning' , 1940's Weekend has previously been imposed on the town as a bit of a 'fait accompli' you have to do it even if you don't agree with it. That's the rules.
August shop figures were much better than expected, some of which due to the Makers Market we did. September so far has been stronger than the beginning of August. But the week of 'national mourning' appears to have led to their purses going into mourning too. Its been a bit quieter. It maybe the lull before the coming big event weekend. Not that that is necessarily good for trade, cos its not. This year the Cafe in the Courtyard is currently closed. To re-open in mid October under new management and after a refit. That may mean no folk just wandering in for a cup of vintage cake and char, and buying that beautifully scented candle for the air raid shelter back home.
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