We have transversed the globe again this Christmas and are once more back in England. Most of the time since arriving five days ago has been spent holed up in Brother in law's charming sixteenth century farmhouse in front of the fire feeling sapped by the jetlag fairy and boozing. It could be worse.
For the majority of our stay I have parked my arse on the sofa and watched telly. The weather has been shite (apart from today, Christmas Day, which has been glorious) and I have been reminded what an enormous part of life, television is in this country. In another life I worked in the BBC tv scheduling office, which was the closest I think I ever got to doing something that made a difference to people's lives. Like it or loathe it, the opiate of the masses really does shape one's day when your stuck indoors.
And yes, there's a lot of dross dribbling down that tube, but at least there's more choice now, and you can usually find something of interest to view. I can watch stupid amounts of home restoration programmes, and then some more. The weird thing is the kids don't seem to watch it so, much now, since the almighty Minecraft entered our world. My daughter can play Minecraft without drawing breath for days on end. My dreadful parenting lets her, and I'm filled with mild shame, constantly. In fact the only potential competition has come from playing with a megaphone. Even less appealing. Thankfully some sunshine today has meant we could drag them out for a walk, with obligatory moaning, of course.
Anyway, as much as I love a hunker down, I'm reminded why we live in the Southern Hemisphere where you can get out and about and fill your world with more than the small screen can offer. Is that the time? Pass the remote, it's the Downton Christmas special in five...