There are few things in life which can drag me through the gloomy underworld of pain and exhaustion which I inhabit, and go some way to spreading a little happiness throughout my disease-ridden self. Years ago, when I was in such terrible pain I felt I had no option but to end it all, I was saved by the telly. It’s true. I couldn’t bear to not see the next series of 24, so I reasoned that I had to stay alive for that. Eight seasons in a row? Eight years where I thought, ‘I can’t disappear now, I’ll never find out if Jack Bauer saves the world, will I?’ And boy, was I OBSESSED with Jack Bauer. Still am, to be honest. I watched the fifth series almost in real time, pausing only to nip to the loo, have a quick shower, make a bacon sandwich and take a little nap. It was, and still is, the most immense series ever created. I would free up a kidney to have a button on my head which makes my memory of the entire series disappear, just so I can watch it again and again. Look at him! So maddeningly fit, and he’s even a grandad!
I also love Homeland, True Blood, Man Men, Boardwalk Empire, The Big Bang Theory, 30 Rock and Desperate Housewives, too, but none of them would save me from the overdose of doom. So I basically owe my life to Kiefer Sutherland. I wish he knew; I’m sure that if I was eight years-old someone would arrange for me to be able to meet him. He’d bend down, hug me and let me kiss him on the cheek, before presenting me with the box set of 24 on BluRay. And maybe a gun and a four-wheel drive Lexus. But I’m not eight, I’m 39, so that’s never going to happen, which is a real shame. Not for Kiefer, particularly, but for me. Although I bet he’d like me if he met me. I medically need this to happen. I’m sure the endorphins I’d produce would kill off the bad stuff which lives in my blood stream. It’s worth a shot, surely?
Before 24, I’d seen The Lord of the Rings at the cinema and Legolas’ magic getting-on-the-horse moment made me gasp so ferociously that I dropped all my Fruit Pastilles from the tube. I spent the next 10 minutes retreiving them, blowing on them and eating them (but not the green ones – I don’t eat green sweets) and came out of the cinema so elated that I knew I was in love. Again!
I hadn’t felt like that since I first saw Gary Lineker playing for England against Mexico in the 1986 World Cup, tanned and lithe, skillful and tricky, and all with his wrist in plaster. Oof!
Apart from great films and decent telly, biscuits and music play pretty big part in my life. Today Gautier and I went into town, aided by him running me a bath so hot I thought he was actually trying to kill me (he would not be good with a baby, seriously) and some codeine. Gautier was headed for the guitar shop. He picked up a baby pink, custom made Fender ’59 Esquire, no less, an absolute beauty of an instrument. It wasn’t even custom made for him – it was made for someone else in the shop, but when it turned up, the guy could no longer afford to buy it. He is more in love with her than with me, but I can’t say as I blame him. I’d sooner lose him to a guitar than another woman. Look at her!
Anyway, he was in such a state of shock at finding his dream guitar that his hands were shaking and he had a really funny look in his eyes. It was a mixture of sheer terror and total joy (I’ve seen that look before, on the morning after the night that he proposed to me). We went for a coffee so he could calm down a bit, but I think his double espresso and Marlboro just made the palpitations worse. I ordered a cappuccino – ‘hold the Marlboro!’ – and was delighted to see that it came with one of these on the side:
I love these biscuits as much as Gautier loves his new guitar. It’s true!
So we came home, and he’s now rehearsing for his next show with the delectable Ruby Ann. Again, if you’ve read Mostly Cloudy, With Some Bright Spells you’ll remember that it was she who introduced me to Gautier. She is brilliant, and so is he. I can prove it, with this:
As if he married me! I still think it’s funny, and when I’m in the audience watching Gautier play I get SO excited it’s untrue. Once, he winked at me from the stage and I WENT RED. Seriously! I thought I was going to faint, I’m that much of a crush-befuddled div.
So. Ruby Ann has a new album out. I have been listening to it a lot lately, not just because it’s ace but because it’s handy for me to learn the words in case she drinks a little too much whisky before she goes on stage and forgets a few. She can just look down at me and I’ll be able to help (this actually happened a long time ago, but I was more drunk than her, so I’m not sure what she took from it, to be honest). If your ears deserve a treat, you could do worse than buy her new album. Your ears will thank you, I’m sure:
So, that’s our Sunday, to be topped off with a MASSIVE treat: a Thai take away. Squeaky the cat is curled up on her chair and we’ve got an episode of Homeland to look forward to a bit later. I’m in pain, I’m utterly exhausted because I can’t get a decent night’s sleep and I know the rain is going to make my symptoms even worse tomorrow, but right now I’m so happy about the good stuff in my life that I don’t want this bloomin’ day to end.