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Monday, 7 July 2014

In which I am a day late, but have been adequately Pythoned, and I go back to someone else's roots.

Yes, yes, I know, where was I yesterday and all that.  I can hear you tapping your toes, looking at your watches and sighing from here. Well, I can't actually hear you looking at your watches, that would require a degree of acuity in the audio department which I don't possess unless you are opening a packet of HobNobs whilst pretending to yawn (because, yes, I can hear that. Don't think you're fooling anyone). 

This weekend I was in London, hence the late bloggage.  Yes, I know they have computers there, but I was busy, all right?  I know you think you are constantly never far from my thoughts, as is indeed the case, but my fingers were busy.  And I can report that the Pythons were extremely funny, particularly when seen from a seat in the O2 so vertiginous that I was actually holding on to my seat for some of the performance, and when there was an intermission, I had to insist that everyone stay seated in order that the actual arena didn't topple over sideways.  But I had forgotten how funny the 'Blue Danube with Explosions' was, how true to life the Yorkshiremen ('shoebox in't middle of road') and how much I could laugh at the phrase 'cross-beam's gone askew on't treadle...I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition'.

I just hope I am that agile and amusing when I am 107, as most of the Monty Python cast now are. 

He was lovely then and he's lovely now... Not quite Tony Robinson, but still lovely...Not bad for 107.

And then, subsequent to the Pythoning, my brother (who's idea it was to Python in the first place) and I went back to the Isle of Sheppey. Oh, don't worry, most people haven't heard of it, even the people who live there call it 'that flat place with all the sheep'.  We used to spend summer holidays there when we were children.  No, I don't know why either, maybe our parents just didn't like us very much or something.  Well, no, we had an aunt who lived there. And an uncle. And a grandmother...all right, all right, so most of my family lived there!  And we used to spend many a happy hour in a house with a big garden on the island.  Oh, it's all right, the house belonged to an aunt and uncle, we didn't just break in to enjoy ourselves - and we went back to visit the very house and the garden (now smaller. No, not just because I am bigger, either...).  So thank you to the householders who were very understanding about this mad brother and sister combo, recreating a very old photograph in their garden..

So, when they say you can never go back to your childhood - they're wrong. You just have to change at Sittingbourne.

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