TERRIFIC BILL

Went out for dinner in Guildford this evening.  Ate at Bill's.  If you don't yet know them, they have been in Brighton for some time, where the restaurant is in a fruit and veg shop.  The restaurants sell most of the products used in their food - Bill's sauce, Bill's marmalade, Bill's chutney, Bill's beer, etc, which are all delicious.

I'm a bit hard pushed to categorise Bill's; it's sort of simple, distressed chic.  The Guildford restaurant is in a 17th century inn - all beams and wooden floors, with an odd mix of lighting, plain wooden tables and chairs and a sort of ancient tavern feel to it.  It was packed to the gunnels and the noise level meant you had to shout.  It reminded me of what pubs used to be like.  I occasionally imagined I was in a party.  The food is straightforward British with little twists.  My fish cakes had a mango salsa; the grilled chicken was served with tsatsiki, chips are served in a bucket (not a very large one), etc.  All very wholesome and tasty.

We were surprised to notice a Bill's in Chichester the last time we were there and now one in Guildford.  Apparently there are now 19 of them and they hope to have opened 30 by the end of the year.  What recession?!

I managed to watch the end of Broadchurch the other night.  Make sure you watch it, if you haven't yet.  Absolutely stunning stuff.  The series has been compared with The Killing, which I guess provided inspiration, but the acting was extraordinary.  Not to mention the dramatic photography.  And somehow the culprit was not known until the last episode, ensuring we clung onto our seats with our fingernails until the end.  There was just a hint of criticism, amidst all the accolades, that the killer was revealed so early in the last episode, but I thought one of its great strengths was its treatment of the affected family, neighbours, community after the arrest.  We don't usually get to see that and I enjoyed it as much as some of the plot twists.  Anyway, get hold of it.

I am off on Sunday again this time to take a walking group from Marrakech to Madrid.  I shall use the train occasionally . . .  See you when I get back.

KNIT PICKING

Since the explosion of interest here in Scandinavian thrillers, both written and on television, I suppose it was inevitable that we should start seeing British thrillers based on the same tenets - dark scenes, broody, troubled detective, lots of suspects, every character with a mysterious secret, all the players somehow inter-connected, each episode meandering mysteriously and slowly on, each ending with yet more unanswered questions and maybe a new suspect, women in jumpers, etc.

I watched the 2-part thriller Shetland last week.  It was quite good.  It was set in a bleak landscape (the Shetland Isles unsurprisingly), there were lots of secrets, the community was close-knit, the jumpers were even more closely knit, everyone seemed to have a secret, the detective was broody, but . . . I don't know, it finished somehow rather unsatisfactorily.  I think they missed the point about making it slow.  Two episodes was just not enough.  When we found out whodunnit, it wasn't really such a big surprise and, since there had been little time for many plot twists, it ended with a phut.

There was great scenery though.  And an obscure Viking festival was featured; I had never heard of that and was fascinated that it has survived.  It could have added an even more sinister atmosphere to the context of the crime, but again, it sort of passed by.  The series was as if a producer had demanded a British rival to The Killing and someone had made the leap from Icelandic jumper to Shetland jumpers, but hadn't really followed the thought through.  The disillusioned detective's daughter had the best jumpers and all the best lines - he said to her, 'you can see Iceland over there.'  She responded, 'what the supermarket?  Oh no, I forgot, there are no supermarkets on the islands are there.'  Later she added, 'I can't even go out and climb a tree.  There aren't any!'  Unless you want to see what The Shetlands look like, don't bother to look for this series on catch-up.

I am in the middle of the longer Broadchurch at the moment.  Broadchurch beach is actually Bridport and is based around the high cliffs you may remember I featured in a recent post.  The main actors are David Tennant and Olivia Colman.  If you are a fan of David Tennant, he is brilliant.  If you're not, you might think he acts too hard.  He is the broody detective with a past to hide and, as with others in this genre, he seems to be emotionless.  But it's hard to tell whether he's trying to look like someone who's trying hide something and struggling to suppress his emotions for risk of giving too much away although not being quite broody enough to be charismatic and likeable or whether he's trying to look like someone who's a brilliant impassive detective with a broody nature, but isn't quite succeeding.

But the show is actually all about Colman.  She is just extraordinary.  Knowing all the members of the community well, her character has to help conduct an enquiry that appears to suspect any or all of them.  And of course she still wishes to be one of them and is distraught for all of them and shares all their suffering.  When she looks at the camera, you don't need any words, nor anyone else in the scene, you just feel what's going through her mind and what's going on.  Fabulous!

So far the series has followed all the rules - dark scenes, broody, troubled detective, lots of suspects, characters with secrets, all the players somehow inter-connected, each episode grinding slowly on, each ending with unanswered questions and maybe a new suspect, and a woman, not in a particularity memorable jumper, but in a nice boating waterproof anyway.  I hope it continues to unravel in this way (the series, not the jumper) (although, on the other hand . . .).  Broadchurch will be appearing on US TVs later in the year, so look out for it.

In contrast, I have just finished watching Spiral, the French detective series.  In many respects this series also followed the Scandinavian rules.  In fact it beat Shetland and Broadchurch by also having subtitles.  They both had tricky Scottish accents to contend with, but there's something about subtitles that adds to the mystery.  Or maybe that's just by association with the Scandinavian language thrillers.

Anyway, Spiral also had a woman in a jumper.  Again, not a particularly memorable one, although I might have just been distracted by the fact  that it kept slipping off her shoulder.  All the police here  seemed to interpret 'plain clothes' as down-and-out scruffy blousons.  What a waste of an opportunity for the French fashion knitwear industry.  One of the criminals disguised himself as a policeman at one stage by not shaving and putting on a leather bomber jacket.  Even he saw that it was some sort of uniform.  But I suppose it must have had an element of realism in it, otherwise it wouldn't have been accepted on French TV.  Perhaps all those louche men hanging around on French street corners with cigarettes in their mouths are actually police officers.

Spiral was also a police procedural thriller, like most of the dark, mysterious Scandinavian ones.  I am in the process of reading through the 10-book Martin Beck series, which was the forerunner of all of today's police procedurals.  The main premise there, apart from the gloomy, dedicated detective with a consequent hopeless homelife, was that society was rotten, mostly because of the actions of Government.  So most of the action takes place in run-down public housing, with understaffed police, illegal immigrants living outside the law, citizens with their lives ruined by public servants or wealthy industrialists, etc and most of the criminals evoking more sympathy than the representatives of the law.

Spiral had the dingy, run-down back streets, rather than the grand frontages one is used to in scenes of Paris, it also had the illegal immigrants and down-trodden citizens and uncaring, self-serving authorities.  The police characters too all had the usual personal problems.  But it didn't seem to have the political message of the Martin Beck procedural.  What it did have though was a great premise - instead of the gloomy, bleak, wintry, nocturnal environment of The Killing or Shetland, the atmosphere was built up with intertwined stories of crooks, lawyers and police, and every one of them operating outside of the law with greater or lesser degrees of venality.  Maybe that was the political message ie real life in France is not the one promoted in all the superficial fashion and holiday magazines?  Anyway it was fascinating to watch at every level.

We were not invited to like the thuggish police officers that much.  Nor did I have much sympathy for the criminals, certainly not for the anarchists among them.  But, if the environment revealed in this series was indeed realistic, what a dystopia!  I guess there will be another series in due course.  Watch it!

THE TV JOKE

Watched the first 2 episodes of Borgen Saturday night. Yes, the subtitle season has started early.

Why is it so fascinating? And it was! I have mentioned before that it was made for Danish viewers and thought to be too arcane for a foreign audience. And it's in Danish. With subtitles. Set in a foreign city, whose geography doesn't immediately make any sense. Starring unknown (except to devotees) actors. And deals with subtleties of Danish politics and even (this week) military niceties. But somehow it is as popular in UK as in Denmark. And the lead journalist hasn't even got her kit off yet.

I think a leader I read today hits the nail on the head – 'why can't the BBC produce anything more complex than a futile game show or a foul-mouthed comedian?' Well, a bit harsh maybe, but I have felt for some time now that British TV has become even more dumbed down than usual.

Stand-up has become big here lately. I quite enjoy some of the exponents myself. But it has led to rather a lot of stand-up programmes, and panel games featuring comedians, and indeed panel games hosted by comedians. Nothing really wrong with that in theory; we all need a good laugh from time to time. From time to time to time even. But, inevitably, with so many funny men and women, not all of them are good. Or even funny.

There are, to be fair, one or two amusing sitcoms (and some unfunny ones too), but even they rely occasionally on the odd belly laugh from foul language or toilet references.

This situation seems to be supported by the film industry. I saw a poster the other day for Stag Night 2 or Bridesmaids 2 or The Hangover 3, or whatever it was, and the tagline was 'even cruder than the last one!' So I presume that this type of humour is a selling point. If that's the current demand, I suppose it explains why the jokes on TV have become so unsubtle.

Game shows and their totally uninformed contestants I've sniped at before. But new ones keep coming along. They now seem to be the accepted parking place for comedians whose own comedy shows have come to an end. So they're usually both irritating and without humour.

Anyway, back to foreign series. I was totally gripped, as ever by The Killing 3, that other Danish thriller, but devastated by the ending. I shan't spoil it for any of you that hasn't seen it yet, but the series' trick of ending each episode with the least expected outcome, to whet your appetite for the next, was exceeded tenfold at the end, but the whole house of cards was not only knocked over, but set light to. Even the US remake writers will have difficulties writing a series 4 now. Perhaps the formula had been played out.

Actually the producers of US TV series don't think so. I know there have been series with unclear or semi-real happenings unfolding – 'Lost', and I suppose '24', for example, and 'The Wire', but 'Homeland' seems even closer to the Nordic formula. The writers used this approach too to prolong the US version of 'The Killing', which was also greatly enjoyable, though different from the Scandinavian version. The immensely enjoyable 'Homeland' similarly underlines that other TV series-makers have picked up on this script-writing method. But 'Homeland' too ended completely unsatisfactorily and, I assumed, with some open-ended denouement intending to signify that the main protagonists had been written out. I have since discussed the ending with several friends and discovered at least as many possible meanings to the ending. Hmmm.

I subsequently read that Damian Lewis (the British lead actor) has signed a new 5 year contract. So I guess he hasn't died then. Just a guess mind. And perhaps the next series will be ready when Borgen finishes. Hooray! Meanwhile, for my health and peace of mind, tell me to switch the bloody television off.

THUNDERBIRDS ARE GONE

I seem to do this far too often.  And I told myself I would stop.  But I just had to post this.  FAB?

Thunderbirds and all its predeceesors formed the backdrop to my early life or at least my early TV watching life.  I still look on them, if not with affection, then at least with amazement at their production.  RIP Gerry Anderson.

DOWN FALL

So Andy Murray has capped the most wonderful summer of sport we have ever known.  I tried to watch the progress of the Murray game on Twitter, but the tweets were flashing across my screen so rapidly I couldn't read them.  It was as though I had my finger permanently on the scroll button.  I checked the online news and saw that he had won the first two sets, so went to bed.  In the morning, as expected, I heard that he had won.  What I had missed, however, was the intervening 2 hours where he was definitely not winning.  So well done, Andy.  He has matured extraordinarily over the last year from his collapse at Wimbledon through his recovery at the Olympics to his first Grand Slam (our first Grand Slam win for 76 years).  Hopefully now he can relax a little mentally and go on to greater things.
But what of this summer?  Andy's win came at just the right moment.  The Paralympics Closing Ceremony had ended on Sunday, the parade of Olympians through London on the Monday had finished, and we were in danger of slipping into anti-climax.  And then along came another feat of sporting excellence.  What a summer it has been!
But it is over.  And, as if to underline the end of that chapter, the weather, which had behaved beautifully throughout the Olympics and Paralympics, and even during the Parade, now turn decidedly autumnal.  The magical summer is over and the end of the year is approaching (I saw the first Christmas decorations in the shops last week and my first Christmas tree in the pub today!) and the slight chill in the air hints at an ominous return to reality.  How long will it be before we stop hearing how inspired everyone in Britain is and what a united motivated society ours is, and start hearing people ask, ‘what has then Olympics done for me?’
Sadly, consumer spending was down during the summer, the recession is still with us, and various problems relating to production, transport and education have floated to the top of the public’s champagne glass of euphoria and consciousness.  Never slow to take advantage, the unions are talking of strikes and even a general strike (as though not working will solve our production and export problems).  I fear we will soon have forgotten the patriotism and collective well-being of the last few months.
But it needn’t be like that.  I hear so many stories of children being inspired, from my neighbour’s little girl who decided to sign on for diving lessons, but found there was already a waiting list, to the little boy, looking in his colouring book at Captain Hook, with one leg and a hook for a hand, and assuming he was an athlete.  Whatever else happens in the adult world, we must make sure this juvenile focus on sports is maintained.
How do we avoid sinking now into the doldrums?  Well, one of the problems of course is the sudden lack of programmes to watch on television.  I loved Boris’ assertion that the athletes created such enthusiasm and excitement on the sofas of Britain that, now only have they inspired the next generation, they have probably inspired the creation of another one.  Anyway, to avoid misery and pessimism now, don’t revert to watching soaps; nothing happy ever happens there.  You can watch the new season of Strictly Come Dancing if you like, but much better would be to invite the neighbours round for a game of boccia, or carpet bowls, or even dominoes.  Me?  I’m playing more bridge.  I’ll get it into the Olympics one day.

OLD NEWS

OK, I declare a bit of a personal interest here, because I think Countryfile is much improved with the addition of Julia Bradbury to the team.  But did I think that because she is young, toothsome and vibrant and clearly interesting to watch?  Or is she toothsome and vibrant and interesting to watch because she is young?  On the other hand, did I (and it seems quite a lot of other viewers) not much enjoy watching Miriam O'Reilly cavorting about because she is very, very old (53)?

Now, I have to make a confession here.  I was sitting there at bridge the other evening, mesmerised by these ankles under the table opposite.  They were encased in white ankle socks and black suede ankle boots with a low heel and totally captivating.  I was so excited, I have started looking at this 84 year old girl in a completely different way.  Now, I know she wasn’t wearing white ankle socks or black ankle boots, but she was in a full body wet suit and was rolling around on the beach when I last saw Miriam, but I’m sorry, I found the programme uninteresting.  It’s nothing to do with sex; it’s nothing to do with age; but some people just don’t have a screen presence.  As they say, the camera didn’t much like her.

Sadly the BBC folk tried to help (allegedly) by suggesting she get rid of her wrinkles, which is why this has all gone wrong, but it isn’t to do with appearance as such.  No one (with the possible exception of Frank Lampard) could call Christine Bleakley a stunner.  Nor, if you've seen the pics of her off duty, would you say that she’s without lines on the face.  But her personality lit up the dire One Show and curiously the Bleakley lookalike they found to replace her does the same.

The media is full of wrinklies who continue to attract – Countryfile still has John Craven as a presenter for goodness sake and he’s 171 this year.  Then there’s David Attenborough (85), John Humphries (67) and even Bruce Forsythe, although I think he’s been embalmed, still attractive to watch and with a band of younger followers.  But maybe it’s a sex thing after all then, as there are very few old women presenters?  Although men still seem to like watching Maggie Smith (76), Helen Mirren (oh, she’s only the same age as me), Joan Collins then (77), and I’ve seen all three talking on television recently and found them perfectly watchable.  So what happened with Miriam then?

I also saw a bit of an interview last night on this broad topic, but switched over in disgust, when wrinkly old Esther Rantzen (who still has the same screen presence she always had incidentally, despite being 170) talked of ‘prejudice both sides of he camera’.  Is that it?  Am I prejudiced?  Should the BBC put old people on the screen as presenters so as to be fair, whether they are good or popular, and should I curb my prejudice and stop preferring camera-friendly presenters at certain times of the day?

And are the BBC wrong (whatever the tribunal has decided and whatever apology the BBC has made to Miriam) to put on screen the presenters who seem to meet best the wishes of the audience they are trying to attract?  The Countryfile changeover came after all when they moved the programme to a different time slot. I know that there are more older women on US TV than here and that it is not such an issue there, but surely the audience should have a say in this.  I’m glad for Miriam of course, but not a little mystified at the BBC apology.  It seemed perfectly natural to me, when I got wrinkly, that I should leave my job and be replaced by a younger man.  This has now wrinkled my brow with new furrows of puzzlement .