I had a few problems with my computer last night while trying to do some work, (I know, on a Sunday – no double time for the self-employed) which had stressed me out to the point of actually passing out and waking up on my office floor several hours later. It had been my intention to do some work last night to give me today off as I wasn’t going to work on a Bank Holiday Monday). At six o’clock this morning I woke up on my office floor and Jack, who sleeps on a nest of jumpers and coats while I’m working, had cuddled up to me. It was a beautiful gesture that he wanted to look after me, but somewhat hopeless if I had died. What was he going to do? Keep guard over me until he was hungry enough to eat me? Or would he have eventually gone for help? Jack might be many wonderful things, but Lassie and Skippy have got no competition here.

Because of this I had been a little disorientated when I woke up properly today. I remember getting into bed and cuddling tightly to Mandi for warmth (although the house was warm I was shivering), but when I woke up at one o’clock this afternoon my head was cloudy and I felt out of sorts for at least two hours. It was as if I was hung-over without the empty wallet and pocket full of change. It might have been my fuzzy mind, but I felt as though an episode of depression was looming. We had arranged to go out for a late lunch and I didn’t want to let Mandi down as my career can cause me to neglect her a bit. Is there a better cure for sleepy bewilderment than a hot shower? Yes there is, but we went for lunch first (giggedy).

Typical Bank Holiday weather dictated that we were in for another day of pissing down rain so we didn’t want to go far. The Lion in Basford was our destination, the latest pub to open its own burger bar. Sooner or later all pubs will have a hip and trendy burger franchise, and Rock ‘n’ Roll Burger Co. was our lunch today. They have a range of music themed burgers on the menu, no Rick Astley though, all reasonably priced at around the seven/eight pound mark. One Memphis burger and two pints of Harvest Pale later, I was feeling a little bit better.

To round off a three day weekend we watched, rather appropriately, Singin’ in the Rain. There’s nothing like a musical to pep you up, and this is one of the best in my opinion. Watching musicals always makes me wish that real life is like that; people randomly breaking into song and everybody in the street knowing the dance routines. Gene Kelly directed it, something I hadn’t noticed before. He is a genius of course, but nobody mentions Donald O’Connor, whose routine for thesong ‘Make ‘Em Laugh’ defies human ability.

On the subject of dancers, over the weekend I watched Bruce Forsyth’s documentary about Sammy Davis Jnr. It was interesting to see Brucie doing a documentary, (although it was hardly a hard hitting expose) as for all his faults he is good at what he does. Compare the pre-recorded programme that ITV broadcast with his live ability on Strictly Come Dancing, it is obvious that the autocue is no friend of Forsyth, although to be honest I’m not sure Sammy Davis Jnr was as much of a friend of Forsyth as Forsyth made out. Like Bob Monkhouse, a gifted comedian, Brucie has been underused for too many years on game shows (and he didn’t have the right persona to deal with the public) as a result a whole generation of people might not know of his skills as an entertainer. ITV treated us to a late night broadcast of Bruce and Sammy, a television special made by the champions of light entertainment specials, LWT. Although very hammy and contrived in places, it did demonstrate just what a gift Sammy Davis Jnr had, Brucie too. Why they aren’t making shows like this anymore is beyond me. It was intriguing to hear the warning about language that might be seen as offensive coming up before the show, I hardly thought Bruce was going to start effing and blinding. They were referring to language that might have been seen as harmless banter in 1980. In the documentary Brucie had described Sammy’s battles against racial prejudice; he’d perform in Vegas to a white audience but wasn’t allowed to stay in the hotel, he supported John F Kennedy’s presidential campaign (and thought of him as a friend) but was asked not to go to the inauguration ball. Fast forward to LWT’s shiny floored entertainment special, and SDJ is about to start playing bongos. Cue Brucie: “No secret messages to Kenny Lynch”. Kenny Lynch was the UK’s famous black person back then, and such gags were considered acceptable, as hard as it is to comprehend. It’s nice to see how far we’ve come, to see how far we’ve come, is nice!

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