Okay, so I’ve been trying, I really have. I watch everyone on Twitter, chatting about TV, and I figure, maybe I’m missing out here. Maybe I should join in. I mean, I do watch TV a bit – but it’s usually Top Gear or The Gadget Show or The Simpsons to keep James company – and I’ll only have half an eye on Jeremy Clarkson (unless he’s driving a particularly juicy motor) cos I’ll be balancing on my fitball and waving a kettlebell over my head (yup, those triceps still need a bit of work). But the other night I thought, no, give it a go. So I sat on the sofa, turned on and – OMG – there was a vast swollen scrotum staring me in the eye. For one bizarre moment I wondered if James had signed us up for some Sky package that involved porn channels, except no…this was not even remotely erotic (unless you get off on infected scrota of course – and, don’t tell me, some people probably do).
I then watched, slack-jawed, some poor man having six stone – SIX STONE! – of stomach “apron” excised. Six stone? Sorry, I keep repeating it but you know, that’s a large child. I don’t think I will ever expunge that image.
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| It was about four times this size, btw |
But really. This is entertainment? This is what we choose to do with our evenings? Well, obviously because last night I found myself back on the sofa switching on again, with puzzled yet morbid fascination. This time it was the women’s turn. One poor girl had her humungous breasts lopped off and we got to see a woman with a prolapsed vagina expelling a squirt of urine up close. In fact, the director liked the pee shot so much, we got it three times, until the woman finally managed to splash the consultant in the eye.
Now, I’m not remotely squeamish. I’ve watched operations up close; I’ve staunched a severed artery with my bare hands (not my own artery, I hasten to add) and I begged a surgeon to let me watch my own emergency C-section (he refused, the spoilsport) but, but, but…no. Just no. I turned away.
The moon was so huge, so bright. It was flirting through the window at me, singing a love song to me and I just couldn't resist. So I switched off the TV and walked out into the garden. The daisies were shining like a reflection of stars. The moon stroked my face so I lay down on the damp grass, stretched out and smelled earth and roses and lilies and the faintest hint of woodsmoke. I felt the earth beneath me and gazed up at the clear night sky as the last vestiges of light faded to slate. For once I didn't go hurtling out into the darkness - I was content just to hang...just to hold the earth's hand and spin with it through space.
I so love moonlight. Do you? Do you ever really appreciate it? Have you ever walked in the woods at night? Your eyes adjust, you know – you don’t need a flashlight… You see, you hear, you smell, you feel so much… Have you ever swum in a river at night? Slid softly through black water? Have you ever floated in the sea under the stars, your body caressed by moon and wave, floating in a nowhere place, twixt elements, inbetween time? Oh, I know, I know….dangerous… Oh whatever. It’s beautiful, just beautiful…so beautiful….
….a million worlds away from the images on my TV screen.
It’s okay, btw – I know I’m weird, I know this isn’t the norm. And I’m not judging or condemning, really I’m not. It’s just…why? Why do we watch TV? Is it entertainment, escapism, bonding, numbing? Honestly, I’d love to know.
