With Ralph Mellon
Back in harness recently at FFP Towers after an illness-enforced spell off work, I am aiding my rehabilitation by attending weekly exercise classes organised by NHS Fife.
They’re fairly informal, relaxed and very useful, with the exertions conducted to the background noise of popular hits from the 1960s and ‘70s. The latter, particularly the first half of the decade, has a notoriety in music history for the pop charts being at their all-time worst. But the ladies who run the class seem to have found some of the better compilation discs – no mean feat – with many agreeable tunes spilling from the CD player.
Alas, the strains of ‘Remember You’re A Womble’ proved a reminder of just how far we sunk 40-odd years ago, with sardonic protests that it was sending our blood pressure raging when we were striving for the opposite effect.
Leaf us alone: Our garage is fast becoming a rest home for broken-down garden appliances, chiefly leaf suckers and blowers. We have at least three of these implements (with combined and individual functions), which appear to have gasped their last during a typically hard autumn of leaf clearing at Mellon Manor. A heavy arboreal presence nearby means a thick carpet of leaves annually across a wide area, not to mention choked up roof gutters. So we’ve come up with the ideal solution - a galvanised dustbin, so that next year, we can burn them.
Cook up a storm: I finally caught up with the last episodes of ‘Breaking Bad’, quite simply the best American drama series of the last dozen years. Superbly conceived, written and acted, its following in this country fairly points up the cluelessness of TV bosses who ditched it after only two of its five series. And let’s hear it for Vince Gilligan, the genius who thought it up.
This week... started reading a book by Christopher Brookmyre; defaced some Christmas cards and posted them; celebrated a good friend’s 50th birthday.