Cloistered

Get me a beer Nesbitt! Another beer! Well, it had been a day of much toil - looking through the old photos in Granny Glass’s suitcase. Scanning away, and actually throwing some away. Priceless and irreplaceable they may be but do I really want a photo of Jean Burns (who she?) playing an accordion or a bloke (who he?) at some 19030s pleasure gardens smoking a cigarette?
I’d also planted the cherry in a prime location at the top as well as ferrying garden rubbish to the dump. So there. And cooked broccoli. So there again.
So, come 18:00, a meet up with the Nesbitt at a packed Cameo to see The Final Year about Obama’s errrr final year. It’s OK but it’s a bit of a PR job and there’s not nearly enough of the man himself. And for all its ‘behind the scenes’ schtick, you quickly realise that it isn’t at all. Still, the final part is quite gripping as the election loss looms and we have several cameos of Obama talking to the camera and reflecting. All of which just shows even more what the world’s lost. Ho hum.
And we’ve lost John Mahoney too, old Marty Crane. That was a great comic invention. I remember my Dad just loved him, and his dog Eddie. Forever pricking the affectations and conceits of his pretentious sons. I wonder why my Dad liked him so much?