Essential Scottish education

As penned on 20 October 2006

My name is Hen. All the old aunties (and uncles!) are calling me Hen.

In spending most of my days in a house without Internet access (we’re being connected at the end of the month, Thank Fuck), I am being caught up on the four decade history of Coronation Street. Right now, the big scandal(s) are Jamie having smooched his stepmum Frankie (who is in love with his dad Danny) at the funeral of Fred, who was ten minutes away from marrying Bev but died while at his old flame Audrey’s house.

Then there’s City Hospital where there was a natural birth live on teevee and Holby City where just a couple of nights ago, Elliot’s wife took the euthanasia way out in Switzerland with help from bitchy doctor Connie and the administrator bloke was totally mean to the nurse he was banging. Let’s not forget reruns of The Simpsons that are on every night on 4. I saw Neighbours for the first time in several years, and I only recognised two of the characters. There are a buttload of cooking programmes on Saturday mornings and house-buying type shows in the morning (To Buy or Not To Buy is particularly rivetingly woeful).

Last week, we were up a bit later and saw something called Club Reps, with the DVD now available. Club Reps is about silly Poms on holiday in places like Greece, and I can’t think of a worse way to spend those expensive pounds I’ve not yet started earning. Death of a President was on last night, though, and I thought it was really quite good (but would make Bush feel far more important than he is).

And they say there’s nowt good on the telly.

• 30 Oct 2006

• Thinking