These strangely jokey, jolly adverts about old folks' insurance to provide for your funeral keep popping up on TV. The creepiest one shows two suburban matron types in a garden centre, reminiscing about the taste in flowers of a dead friend, and what a great 'sendoff' she'd had. ' I could never afford a funeral like that!' says one wistfully. Her pal tells her all about this great plan she's signed into, that will save your family from the expense of disposing of your carcass. It really does creep me out.
My legs are still giving me major gyp, damn it.
Yesterday, I popped into St Martin's in the Fields, to see a wee exhibit of rather Giacometti-esque sculptures by one Chaim Stephenson. They mostly depicted Bible storie and images of refugees. Not bad.
Been Watching THE TEAM, a pretty decent Scandi tec saga, and THE REPLACEMENT, Not the most original theme, but well acted and presented enough to hold the attention.