My dear friend Houston I hope will be reading this this morning as he usually does but it will be from his hospital bed following a big operation during the week. All well thank God, Houston you are a star. Take it easy and get back on your feet soon – lunch beckons.
I was so sorry that the UK curling team just missed with that last stone and so, apart from Colin Murray on Saturday morning, initially the commentators and interviewers didn’t help. Rather than saying ‘well done you won a silver medal’ they immediately homed in on the fact they had ‘failed’. Kick a man when he’s down comes to mind. The team acknowledged they’d been beaten by a superior team but it was quite some time before the smiles returned. I’m sure they’ll get a huge welcome home when they get back to their families in Scotland and they’ll deserve it. I bet there will also be joint celebrations with the lady curlers who are taking back a gold medal after their white wash match game with the `Japanese. An exciting couple of weeks full of drama, joy and disappoint. And despite linking and reporting from a studio in Salford all the commentators were brilliant – especially JJ. Funny to see the reindeer in the background!
Memories Are Made At The Studio.
It took me back to my childhood, Cherry Lips, Sweetie Mice, Liquorice Shoe Laces, Everton Mints, Pear Drops, Fruit Sherbets, they were the sweets of the time and it was a night which was full of memories. Unique, fabulous and funny – that’s the McCooey family and they shared their secrets with us on Thursday in the Grand Opera House Studio. Walk in and you walk back over 70 years.
The stage is set for a radio programme, three old fashioned BBC microphones on stands, a table in the corner with cup, saucer and teapot beside it a stand with a door knocker and a key lock and a box of matches, a cigarette lighter. We take our seats and two women, Maggie McCooey (Carol Moore) and Aunt Sarah (Christina Nelson) and one man who turned out to be a real star. Dean McHugh who doubles up as stage manager for Centre Stage Theatre Company who are putting on this production impresses as the dead pan props man in the BBC studio.
We wait for the show to begin. As we settle out comes the announcer smart in dinner jacket and black tie. Mark Claney was filling in for one of the cast who was unwell and he was the very model of the stiff upper lip, a precise and poised BBC professional. “This is the Northern Ireland Home Service. Welcome to the home of the McCooeys”. The studio on ‘air light’ goes on, strains of My Aunt Jane and we’re off.
The stories written by Joseph Tomelty still ring true today, the shock of the burglary and the loss of family items and the angst of Granda (Dan Gordon) when his lottery ticket goes missing and the hope of a summer holiday fades into the distance. His granddaughter (Hannah Carnegie) tries to help but he’s distraught. He’s the man who says “We don’t believe in love in Ulster, that’s why we look so miserable!” and can’t have people who have jumped out to the bowl they were baked in.
Hilarious is the visit from Henrietta Toosel (Mary Moulds), wife of Ernie the thief, pleading for Maggie to go easy on him when he comes up for sentencing. Henrietta is a real caution, ‘You’re a com-e-jan’ she keeps telling Granda, and ‘Where was I?’ as she goes off on another tangent.
The older members of the audience identify with all the characters, there’s a definite reaction when Derek the window cleaner (Colin Carnegie) arrives and Bobby Greer (also played by Colin) brings his humour to the table.
And that just leaves our props man. When Maggie leaves to room to go upstairs, Dean’s light footfall on a short staircase is picked up by the mic. When Henrietta needs her cigarette lit, Dean is on hand with a lighter, when Derek comes to the door, Dean knocks the knocker and opens and then firmly shorts the door, a tiny door built into a solid panel of wood. A little impro. at one stage when Dean strikes a match close to the mic, it breaks in half and the lit end flys across the studio followed by Dean who swiftly stamp out the flame. We see all this happening, the original audience saw it in their mind’s eye.
Recreating this iconic radio ‘sit com’ was the brain child of Joe’s daughter the late Roma Tomelty, his granddaughter Hanna is in the cast as is his son-in-law Colin Carnegie who also runs Centre Stage.
We came in to Ruby Murray and we went out with another song in our hearts. At the end of episode four, the cast break into song as they belt out ‘We Do Love To Be Beside the Seaside’, it must have warmed their hearts when we all joined in, our special seal of approval.
THE NAKED TRUTH
Maybe I’m a prude but I am amazed that BBC can transmit a smutty programme called Cheaters at 9.45 in the evening.
‘A chance meeting after a cancelled flight – a sexy, messy comedy about love, morality, monogamy and how the heart, brain and loins are idiots who are never on the same page.’
This leaves little to the imagination and makes ugly viewing to me anyway. Louis Theroux’s ‘Forbidden America’ is also difficult viewing but it’s real not made up horror. He is a superb journalist and broadcaster and so brave.
And then there’s another programme but I don’t know the name (just been told it’s `Naked Attraction) and I think it’s a Channel 4 delight but basically it’s a dating programme where men and women decide who they’ll go out with having seen them totally naked. There’s nudity and there’s nudity and these subjects are not old masters. Standards have changed over recent years and it seems today anything goes. Language is another thing. I have watched This Is Going To Hurt’ on BBC l staring one of the best actors there is, Ben Wishart, but the effing and blinding is a bit much. It’s a true story but I doubt a doctor would get away with what he got away with it in most hospitals.
It also boosts tadalafil samples desire for lovemaking. In fact, according to ClickZ, 40% of email generic viagra online marketing messages delivered to inboxes are “broken.” This was actually something that came up during Eliteweb.cc’s beta-testing phases, as we had a client in the Canadian Government whose recipients were mostly using highly secure email programs. The best way to stop order viagra online these effects is to quit this habit. viagra sales in canada icks.org These side effects are inherent in the just say no to drugs message.
DID YOU REMEMBER?
Despite all those ancient clerics who claim to be ‘the’ St. Valentine, each one being put to death by the way, last week was another chance for the martyred Valentine to spread his wings and douse us all with loving thoughts. Well, for some but not for others. I know of one woman who regularly sends a yellow rose to herself every 14th February and all her friends are impressed by this romantic gesture by an admirer! She has fun leading her friends on with little suggestions as to who is her ghostly lover, no one has yet guessed he doesn’t exist.
In the same vein is the teacher in a girls school. “One morning I was worried by the down hearted looks of three of the girls. I asked them what was wrong? Turned out they were disappointed that they’d received no Valentine cards in the post that morning, these 17 year olds were really upset! I told them not to worry, I never got cards at their age but I said, later today I was flying to Paris to meet up with my handsome Frenchman who was going to take me to the Hotel George V for a glamorous dinner and dancing and whatever else happened. Their eyes nearly popped out of their heads and I had to have a good story the following week to satisfy their curiosity, suddenly I was the coolest teacher in the school. At the end of term I admitted my fantasy.”
I Have Told This Story Before
But I think it’s worth repeating. I can’t remember exactly when it began, around about 10 or 11 when I started getting very colourful Valentine cards through the post. No signature only Just Me or Just Me Again or Just Me to You or some such message. I couldn’t guess who Just Me was but I went to school with my head held high and my Valentine card in my school bag. As the years went on so the cards kept coming. My parents didn’t know who it was, my friends didn’t know who it was, my brothers denied any involvement. Boy friends came on the scene and went off into the blue and the mystery remained. Even in my 22rd year the mystery card popped through the letter box on 14th February and was taken into work to showoff to the girls in the production office in Ulster Television, I was the envy of them all when I told them the story of years being the apple of someone’s eye! My self esteem was sky high.
So came the day of our wedding and the reception in the long gone old and stately Glenavon Hotel in Whiteabbey.
Picture the scene. The end of a lovely meal, lots of fun and laughter, relief that the ceremony went well, time to relax and enjoy. The waitress arrived with the coffee pots on a silver tray but bumped into the middle tier of the wedding cake and the whole thing began to collapse – there was a gasp from the guests, for a wedding cake to collapse during the reception was a sure sign the marriage too would collapse but the best man was quick thinking and he and the groom caught the two tiers and avoided a marital breakdown for over 50 years! So we came to reading the telegrams and the cards. Lovely messages, cheeky messages, double entendre messages laughs and blushes!
Hold Your Breath!
And then we came to the last one. It was a Valentine card. Best man Tom turned to me and there was a pause, my heart was thumping, what would the love of my life think of a Valentine card I suspected was from my faithful admirer, as a boy friend he’d been suspicious for a couple of years. So now awkward or what!
This will be the last Valentine I will send. I now pass you over to the man who will love you for the rest of your life. I wish you both all happiness. Just Me.
As I type I feel the tears prickle at the memory.
As people obviously wondered what this was all about, I looked at my new husband and he was smiling, had he been tipped the wink? After a good few seconds the spotlight landed on a handsome man who was getting to his feet. He stood, blew a kiss and proclaimed: That’s Just From Me.
It was my dear uncle Jimmie, a neighbour, our two families were the closest of friends. He had keep a young girls self esteem high during school days and into young adulthood. My parents were the only ones who knew the story although, on this his wedding day, my new husband had indeed been told what to expect!
Perhaps it was this gesture that inspired me to send my mother a bouquet for St. Valentines day when I realised she was feeling a bit low. I wanted to cheer her up so I had a display of gladiola delivered that morning. No message, just the flowers. There was great excitant and when my Dad came home at teatime she was full of thanks, hugs and kisses. But there was a dreadful silence from my father, he told her they were not from him and went into a deep sulk. He was jealous! Maybe a bit caught out as he hadn’t sent even a card so it was a very tense situation. I was the only one who knew the secret and I didn’t want to spoil my mum’s pleasure at an anonymous admirer but after a while I had to ‘fess up’ as they say. My Dad was relieved, my mother – well I thought I detected definite disappointment!
I discovered a new and novel way to send flowers by the way, delivered through the letter box, (as long as it’s wide enough), a long box of delicately wrapped fresh flowers, so handy and easy to order on-line. More at www.bloomandwild.com
St. Valetine’s Day is over and done but may romance blossom and fun and games commence lots of days during the year!
