 |
| Toad in the compost bin |
All I watch on TV is Walker Texas Ranger relentlessly roundhouse-kicking the crap out of wrong-doers in a ginger wig and the bizarre cheese-fest which is the Six Million Dollar Man. If there's a Gerard Butler film on after that I count myself lucky. Obviously I don't have a smart TV or Netflix - which is probably just as well for my health because if I did, I'd probably never get off the sofa again with the array of new films and fancy series available. Whereas the old channels only have a desperate load of recycled rubbish I'd have to be heavily sedated to watch.
This is possibly another consequence of getting old. You've already seen most of the garbage they churn out. So, failing anything better being available such as a glossy series on Netflix, you might as well return to the 'source', i.e. the programmes previously mentioned.
I do keep an eye on what's on, ever hopeful, but generally there's nothing that appeals. Obviously, news programmes are completely unwatchable now. Which is an odd state of affairs.
I probably wouldn't mind watching geriatrics' soothing favourite, the Antiques Roadshow, but the husband puts his foot down, and I give in because I'm not that bothered anyway. I'd be keener on an Antiques Toadshow, presented by David Fattenborough, an earnest, pastry-loving nature freak who when he isn't presenting programmes about ancient amphibians likes fattening up boroughs.
A year or two back there were toads in our garden. They lived in the compost bin and hibernated underneath it (see photo, of toad emerging from hibernation). Now we have mainly frogs. I really miss opening the compost bin and being confronted by a large toad (see photo). They are extraordinary creatures, and far more interesting to watch than the telly.
 |
| Toad, emerging from hibernation |
