I know that I am revered as one who has his finger always firmly on the cultural pulse, relied upon as a barometer of cool. Yes, you may protest, but we know how it really is.
But even I must admit a few guilty pleasures, tendencies the revelation of which risks my reputation, such as it is. These three have been recently recognised:
Last weekend I was at my mother-in-law’s birthday bash (‘tis the season for barbecuing), and somebody stuck a particular Garth Brooks album in the CD player. It may be the only Garth Brooks CD I own (if you will accept that fact as mitigation), but the next day I had to hunt through a stack of boxes (six months after we moved house, the CD collection is still only half-unpacked) until I found it. The car stereo has been turned up loud ever since…
I have posted before on the influence my parents’ satellite television service has on me. A new-ish discovery (to me, anyway) found there is Las Vegas. Flashy, a little trashy, hugely entertaining brainless TV. Amazon (here’s me wishing for an affiliate link, but I’m a long way from being dragged into the ‘blog monetization’ trend) are currently selling the first two seasons in DVD boxed sets cheaply. They landed on my doorstep this morning. Now, if I can convert my wife, all will be well.
The Archers is a British (English?) radio institution. I had a short-ish run of days when I happened to be in the car while it was on. This is associated with my turning to Radio 4 in the absence of Radio Scotland on this side of the water. But during this spell of exposure to the denizens of Ambridge I got slightly hooked. Not hooked to the point of losing sleep if I miss it, but if I’m by the radio (which generally means in the car) at the appropriate time of day, I will tune towards Radio 4 rather than away from Radio 4 — which is what would (perhaps should?) have happened. A bothersome development indeed.
The bizarre thing about The Archers is that after months of on-and-off listening I’ve only got a handle on who a couple of the characters are supposed to be, but I still enjoy it. Freaky.
There you have it. Comments are open :-o