Usually the main topic of conversation when I’m on the phone to my mates these days is what we’re watching on the telly.
What we’d recommend and what we’d suggest steering clear of.
After all, since we’re all in lockdown and nobody’s oot and aboot, there’s nothing to generate any gossip worth a damn. Sad but true.
The recent talk-of-the-nation was Normal People, which my kids suggested and I tried to get stuck into.
However, after finding the first episode a bit slow, the second began with a blast of sexual antics that fair had me peekin’ through my fingers. Too much long-forgotten information. I had to fast-forward.
Trying to be trendy, I persisted but it didn’t work.
Couldna stick the heroine. Nae great for a tear-jerkin’ romance. Like taking a dislike to Jane Eyre.
Maybe it’s because I’m so obsessed with food meantime, but the recent Come Dines have had me rivetted. There’s always a bad ’un in the group, who thinks they’re la creme de la cheffy creme (and can’t usually even pronounce it), produces rotten fare and then, in the last show, slouches off in a huff. Luv it.
All the gossip of which I’m being deprived.
And if you want to know what I’m hooked on now, it’s Dirty John on Netflix. An after-midnight cracker!
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