One of those blissful moments last night when , for reasons best known to myself , I was settling down , ten minutes after time , to switch on Big Brother , ( Big Brother , please , why ? I really do not watch this monstrosity these days ) .
But right on or rather after cue , there I was , fiddling with the remote controls , wondering if this was the day the Freeview box would , as it has been threatening for weeks , blow up once and for all .
And , into the mix , a text from my sister , am I watching the programme on TS Eliot ? I stare at the text in disbelief . TS Eliot ?
TS Eiot ? On our tv screens ? Those screens which show nothing but trash to the extent that I rarely peruse the guides these days ..... TS Eliot whose poems like most other sixteen year olds born in the late fifties I used to be able to quote to my great satisfaction and at some length .
I scrabble for the tv guide and start fiddling with the remotes , this time begging the box not to give up the ghost ... and here we are , a young man is quoting just like I used to do and an old man is walking the streets of Paris and there is architechture and there are voices and rain and poems by ee cummings and I am almost there and almost back at my desk with my friends and almost back walking by the Seine in March of whatever year it was when I was fifteen and ..
.. and hey , I am spared Big Brother and it was really that simple .
How I adore TS Eliot .
Who doesn't ?
But right on or rather after cue , there I was , fiddling with the remote controls , wondering if this was the day the Freeview box would , as it has been threatening for weeks , blow up once and for all .
And , into the mix , a text from my sister , am I watching the programme on TS Eliot ? I stare at the text in disbelief . TS Eliot ?
TS Eiot ? On our tv screens ? Those screens which show nothing but trash to the extent that I rarely peruse the guides these days ..... TS Eliot whose poems like most other sixteen year olds born in the late fifties I used to be able to quote to my great satisfaction and at some length .
I scrabble for the tv guide and start fiddling with the remotes , this time begging the box not to give up the ghost ... and here we are , a young man is quoting just like I used to do and an old man is walking the streets of Paris and there is architechture and there are voices and rain and poems by ee cummings and I am almost there and almost back at my desk with my friends and almost back walking by the Seine in March of whatever year it was when I was fifteen and ..
.. and hey , I am spared Big Brother and it was really that simple .
How I adore TS Eliot .
Who doesn't ?
