Past their best!

Set off this morning through the Meadows hoping to get a morning shot for my blip today. I say 'morning' but the serious blippers would have been out hours before to get their proper 'morning' shots.

I was off to my meeting of grumpy old codgers people who want to complain about piped muzak. It's everywhere now - banks, hospitals, doctors' waiting rooms as well as shopping malls, shops and eating places.

I love music.

I HATE MUZAK.

I have long written letters (even written long letters) to shop managers, complained to staff, and on one occasion, during a particularly trying supermarket visit near Christmas (yes! Jingle Bells AGAIN!) left a trolley full of stuff and ran out screaming.

OK. I lied about the running out screaming bit, but I did leave the trolley and walk out sedately, on my High Horse.

Imagine my delight to find a few like minded folk and we meet in a Loudon's Loudons (NO apostrophe) cafe (muzak-free of course) and compare replies from faceless managers who spout the same patronising rubbish:
'we listen to our customers/enhance the customers' shopping experience/proven commercial benefit' blah blah.

'Proven' by who? (whom?) I ask. PPL and PRS - the companies who issue the licences, I would think! I have just two words for them. No, not Shut Up.

John Lewis.

Do they play muzak? No. Are they one of the most successful shops/companies in the UK? Yes.

Rant Over. For now.

I was quite taken with the rather wilted flowers. I liked the wee splashes of red in the background, too. The tables were full of people with laptops and some big tables with people obviously having meetings. There was a big article in Metro this week about how to use a cafe as your office. It seems a lot of folk do. It said that if your laptop was open, but you were chatting with a friend, it still counted as work.

Having been foiled in my 'wasting a nice day in a dark cinema' earlier this week, I went to the afternoon showing of what looked a promising film. Although featuring several top actresses (who seem to be called 'actors' nowadays) it was deadly dull and I couldn't wait for it to end. The teenage heart-throb who 'starred' had one (rather cute) expression, but that just became irritating after the first ten minutes.

Is it my imagination or are films much longer these days? Or is it another version of the 'policemen are getting younger' syndrome of advancing old age?