poliphilo

Carla Lane was being remembered on TV last night.

She wrote all these bitter-sweet, romantic sit-coms- Butterflies, The Mistress, Bread. She's still alive, I think, but they won't let her back on the box. She's like poor old Benny Hill: her time has passed.

And I was thinking- sheesh, but I watched most of her shows. I even liked them. They were touching, Involving. I'd forgotten all about them until prompted, but I used to really care about her characters.

Back in the 70s, 80s I watched a lot more TV than I do now. It was a family thing. I and whoever I was with at the time would slump down on the settee in the evening and take in all sorts of stuff I wouldn't bother with now- sit-coms, sketch shows, cop shows, dramas. I don't suppose I thought they were particularly wonderful, but watching them was just what one did. I watched Kojak. I watched the Dick Emery Show. Why? Why would anyone want to watch dreck like that?

But there were only two channels, then three. We accepted what was offered, uncritically, in a spirit of gratitude. How nice of those nice people to want to entertain us.

These days I watch much less. And I'm pickier. I still watch rubbish- like Most Haunted- but it's rubbish of my own choosing. And the only thing Ailz and I watch as a couple is America's Next Top Model- and that's simply because it happens to be on at tea-time.