Trying to breathe, trying to sleep, watching the Bill
What I most hate about colds is that you have to think about breathing the whole time - remembering to do it, and finding out whether you are most comfortable, each breath, with your bunged up nose or your mouth and your sour throat. And then there is sleeping, or rather lying awake with nothing to do but think even harder about every breath you take.
Or possibly Alastair Cooke and his Letter from America - when did that man develop his old man's infatuation with George W. Bush? I know it is partly to do with the fact he found Clinton unseemly, which is odd in a man who worshipped FDR and must have known, even then, just how comprehensively FDR lied about his health to the American public. It is not even as if FDR's semi-paralysis ruled out sex and mistresses. Something went wrong with Cooke in the course of the last decade - a shame, because I used to admire him.
The World Service is an insomniac's boon in one way - if you have the classical music programme on, there is a hideous patch at about two in the morning when they do bouncy kiddy programmes for schools, which are there to be recorded rather than listened to and which are pretty much a nightmare if you are trying to get back to sleep. And much of the time - international business, international sports round up - the World Service is inoffensively dull.
I wish I could say the same for Westway, the World Service soap opera about a doctor's practice in West London - it is the soap that no-one can follow because it is on in the middle of the night and is full of public service announcements disguised as plot and you are never awake enough to work out what is going on long enough to care.
The gay copper story line in The Bill proceeds apace with Kerry discovering that Luke has constructively deceived her - actually, apart from shagging his sergeant after a stag night snog got out of hand, he has not actually done all that much. Still she has worked out, finally, that her pretty young husband is gay as a goose and is about to abort their child in spite of his anguished pleas on the steps of the clinic. I have to say that I am very uneasy about where this plot is going - father's rights, surely not in a show as right on as the Bill, but on the other hand deciding that bisexual's spawn must die! is hardly entirely kosher either.
On the other hand, DS Nixon's daughter Abigail is clearly turning out to be not her daughter, but her clone - which explains why Samantha Nixon will not say who the father was. There is also a worrying possibility that, in spite of the fact that she is much too young to join the police, Abigail is being groomed for a storyline. She has been taking obnoxiousness lessons from early Dawn.
The Bill is the one soap opera I actually like, simply because it is still fundamentally a cop show with huge chunks of soap in it. It is a soap which actually kills off characters rather frequently - only a few characters ever get to just leave. And when it did a serial killer story, it went on for months and set lots of false leads and killed off characters we cared about. There is none of this CSI pretense that unambiguous forensic results can be turned around in minutes - may I say how much I dislike that show for cheating so totally?
I hate the loss of subversive fantasy shows for conservative cop shows - I suspect we are in for a long period of very dull television with nothing for us to geek out over except old shows and their fanfic, which is probably quite enough to be going on with.