Sky Arts vs Constipation Street

I`m watching a programme on Sky Arts on Dali. D is disgruntled, but I remind him that I have had to endure Constipation Street, Enemadale and The Pill, I ask him

Y "Aren`t you interested in the subconscious mind?"
D "No I`m frigging not!"
Y "Oh, I see, you`re still having trouble with your conscious mind."
The presenter explains that the piece of work he is describing is "Between a lobster and a telephone."
D "Is it f**k"
We laugh, I am well used to his Philistine tendencies. I don`t really expect him to show an interest, he doesn`t paint or draw, come to think of it, I haven`t drawn or painted anything for ages, the last effort was of a Greek man when we were on holiday in Rhodes. (Photo)

I say that I endure his programmes, but I usually work on the computer when these are showing. I know when they have finished because he generally asks me what I am doing, he`s oblivious to my pursuits when he`s otherwise engaged with soaps. He sometimes views Antiques Roadshow, where the women are genuinely interested in the history of the object and the men display an expression of "Hurry up and get on with it, I need to know how much it`s worth."
The most amusing item viewed on the show was a vase with a golden globe like lid, it turned out to be a door knob that some ancestor (Probably a man) couldn`t be arsed to put away. It`s a dead giveaway when people pretend to be posh, they always drop themselves in, it`s so not worth the bother to alter your accent. Mine is decidedly Geordie. Reminding me of a nursery that I used to work at. One little four year old informed me with a smirk on his face "Mrs Y, some people say barrth and some people say bath." I obviously slotted into the latter, little monkey.

There`s a local news item, the interviewer has taken his questions to the streets, wants to know how many people know the names of the seven deadly sins, a vicar is caught out by only remembering about 4 of them.

I`m working on the computer, checking my hot matches on Genes Reunited, I look at the clock, It`s 12.40, I have until 2.30 before I need to leave the house, leaving myself 15 minutes before to get changed out of my old jeans and T shirt and put on some slap. After many matches checked and either rejected or replied to I glance at the clock, It`s still 12.40. Then I notice that the minute hand is merrily clicking away on the spot. I dash into the next room where a clock displays 2.20, shite, if I`m to get to the book club on time I have to be at the bus stop for 3.00.
My changing routine is rapidly speeded up, and I know that I will be sitting on the bus torturing myself with "Did you turn the computer, iron off, lock the door."etc

Our first meeting at Laboca Art Cafe went very well, we discussed Unless by Carol Shields, loved this one, she`s a brilliant comic writer. B amused everyone as usual as he served us his excellent coffee. Next I went to the Lit and Phil, Jeff Price of the Poetry Vandals was reading his work from his book Doors, and we were priviledged to listen to poems from his pending book. His poems are regional and about everyday life and relationships in families, a breath of fresh air, as at some readings the poets can be really pretentious. Must find out where the Vandals meet, if the others in the group are similar kinds of writers it will be an excellent night out, then my husband can have full control of the remote for the TV, thus spending an arts free evening to himself.