I really enjoyed Steve Coogan’s new BBC comedy Saxondale and have to admit that I got most of the nerdy references to 70s music “Toni Iommi’s fretwork” etc. I thought that the length and tempo to some of the scenes was pleasingly modern in sit com terms. Coogan gave a pretty nuanced performance though I can’t place the accent – something midlands – though there were perhaps inevitably echoes of Partridge. Creepy but somehow quite nice at the same time Saxondale seems quite fully realised though we’ll have to see how the series develops. The look on Saxondale’s face when a hapless prospective employee proudly lists his DJ mate’s dubious achievements in the ‘dance scene’ was absolutely priceless. Can’t wait for the next one.
Weirdly the word ‘anthropomorphosis’ came up in an irritating News Night discussion about the rights and wrongs of whaling afterwards. I suppose that makes sense, though I wonder whether Paxman had been briefed before hand.
With regard to the world cup that is fast approaching what pundits love to call ‘the ‘business end’ of the tournament, I can’t help but feel sorry for Michael Owen. Seeing the man literally crawl off the pitch only to have a camera thrust in his face to fully capture the agony was pretty undignified. And now all the journalists are describing his exit from the tournament as a blessing in disguise. I hope they’re proved right.
But much more distressing is the massacre that happened in my own back garden involving poor Robben Robin and his family. Well I’m not sure you can call two dead chicks a massacre but nevertheless I’m beginning to see why some people loath cats so much. More than being a menace they can just be pure evil sometimes. Having just got home from work I could here a racket coming from the garden and having read recently in the line of research that Robins can fight to the death sometimes for territory I feared the worst and made my way quickly outside to investigate.
Robben and his partner were indeed making an almighty racket about something though at first the source of their distress was unclear. Then I spied the dead chick, the second in a week. A few seconds later the cat, that has been an occasional lodger of ours, appeared out of no where and disappeared over the wall. I shall kick it the next time I see it.
It’s been interesting to observe these Robins. They have a reputation of being tame birds and now I see why. They are the quintessential garden bird. I can see how the partnership between robin and human would beneficial as the presence of humans might frighten of other nuisance birds. They hop around from perch to perch as we sit in the garden sometimes pulling off spectacular aerial manoeuvres right in front of us as if to show off. At first I thought this behaviour was aggressive given our proximity to the nest, but now having seen them when they really are aggravated I realise this is not the case. In fact they’ve been remarkably tolerant to our presence in their domain. Given the ordeal they’ve just been through I’m beginning to feel a bit guilty about playing robin calls from the internet out of my bedroom window to freak them out the other week. And yes before anyone points it out I think I’ve been guilty of doing a bit of “anthropomorhisising” my self here.
Anyway Matt and I have discussed placing some sort of cat proof net under the nest that would still allow access from above. Does anyone have any suggestions? The good news is that there are still a couple of chicks left alive. I’ll keep you posted on their progress though I fear the outlook is bleak.