Had one crappy day yesterday. First, I missed almost a whole night’s sleep – a tachycardia attack hit as i was going off to sleep and lasted for at least five hours. I spent most of the night sitting downstairs watching crap TV, got back to bed at six, managed less than a couple of hours sleep. Felt totally crappy all morning, went back to bed at lunchtime, got some more sleep, woke up with another lengthy tachycardia do. Hmph. Never been able to figure what triggers these attacks, but lack of sleep certainly seems to be a factor, as well as stress in general. And of course, I’ve been overdoing the food and drink these last few days.
The crappiness continued – when I got downstairs again, my vision was so blurry that I couldn’t read or use the computer – high blood pressure from the tachycardia, perhaps. Whatever, I was deprived of my main means of entertaining myself.
I watched (rather, listened to) some television – the Narnia film in particular. It was rather better than I was expecting. Sure, the Christian analogies were laid on thick and towards the end I so wanted those bloody animals to turn on those smug kids, tell Aslan to get lost and declare Narnia an anarcho-syndicalist republic. But the child actors weren’t all that sickening; and, too, I liked the WWII blitz-era backstory that the writers had created – it resonated with the themes of resistance and betrayal when the children found themselves on the run and fighting for a free Narnia. But most of all, I loved Tilda Swinton – sexy and chilly and decidedly dangerous. The look on her face as Aslan was about to swallow her whole – a tender, open, gaze into a lover’s eyes – was a masterstroke of characterisation.
Since there wasn’t anything on worth watching after that, I turned on Radio4 – Terry Pratchett was telling us about his favourite reading. That was followed by a 10-minute filler programme with Clive James. I find James’ style of humour rather forced and wearing, but thought I could take 10 minutes of it. Unfortunately, Clive wasn’t being humourous this time – he was actually giving a Christian sermon. I listened all the way through, waiting for the punchline but there wasn’t one. It was totally serious proselytizing stuff, all about Jesus and God and the Christmas message – he sounded like he was auditioning for an Archbishop’s job.
Either James has suddenly found religion, or he’s decided to come out of the closet.
Funny enough, Pratchett had earlier read out a bit from the Bible – the King James version of the Book of Job. His contention (he’s a declared atheist) was that it is perfectly possible to appreciate beautiful sacred writing and music without subscribing to any formal ideas of religion. Clive James should have followed his example – if he had just played us a couple of examples of his favourite religious music, he would have had people staying to listen, instead of turning off.
After that, I listened to a radio adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s The Loved One – hugely funny, with Mark Gatiss giving his character (Mr Joyboy) a voice totally dripping with warm, fresh, soft butter. Sometime, I really must get myself an iPod, so that I can listen to more of these spoken adaptations.
And so to bed. Today, I’ve been trying to catch up on work. Shouldn’t really be spending time blogging! Oh well, back to the whatsit….