IÂ’ve been watching television for 7 hours straight now.
Each
time one channel loses its interest, there are 137 others waiting
for my attention. I saw a program about a man who was so overweight
he had to have his front upstairs window removed and be hoisted
from his bedroom by a crane.
I thought
the look on his face as he saw open sky above him for the first
time in 11 years was the most moving thing I had ever seen.
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TV
shows could spend their time feeding the hungry, building
better housing, improving sanitation and doing good deeds.
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Morris
Telford |
That
is until I stumbled upon channel 98 – the 24 hour prize bingo
channel, they had markers on there the likes of which Tony "two
fat ladies" Codling himself has never seen. ItÂ’s hard
to believe I managed for all those years in Moreton Say with just
five channels, six if you count S4C.
It
occurred to me that if they can manage to fill 137 channels every
day, they produce enough TV in three days to fill a whole year.
This got me thinking. We must have produced more films and television
shows than one person could ever possibly watch in a lifetime, so
why make any more?
Just
have a seventy or eighty year cycle of repeats and then all the
people that spend time making all the films and TV shows could spend
their time feeding the hungry, building better housing, improving
sanitation and doing good deeds.
IÂ’m
going to write to all the major film companies and networks and
see what they think.
Last
night in the Hotel today, tomorrow I start hitchhiking.
On reflection, I hadnÂ’t really thought the whole seventy year
media cycle through properly.
If
you repeated the news people would notice, youÂ’d have to keep
making news programmes - and Countdown.
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IÂ’m
going to a roadside diner frequented by truck drivers.
IÂ’ve seen the film Convoy so I expect to fit in quite well.
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Morris
Telford |
Up
to the day I left Moreton Say I had seen every episode of Countdown
ever made, from the day Channel 4 started, a fine programme and
the only remaining safe haven on British television for Richard
Stilgoe.
I begin
my hitchhiking odyssey across the USA this morning, according to
the hotel desk clerk, Rodney, who looks quite astonishingly like
a 1960s Robert Wagner, the truckers are my best chance of a long
ride so IÂ’m going to a roadside diner frequented by truck drivers.
IÂ’ve
seen the film Convoy so I expect to fit in quite well.
The casual camaraderie of the trucking fraternity so evident in the
film Convoy does not seem to exist in Alabama.
I ordered
a pot of tea at the diner and offered to buy breakfast for anyone
willing to give me a lift somewhere.
My
biggest mistake was trying to emulate the CB Radio talk I assumed
all truckers use and my overuse of terms like ‘good buddy’,
‘10-4’ and ‘rubber duck’ seemed to give the
wrong impression and I found myself in an enclosed space with 50
large tattooed men who thought I was making fun of them.
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I
found myself in an enclosed space with 50 large tattooed men
who thought I was making fun of them.
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Morris
Telford |
Buying
everyone breakfast seemed to calm them down and a man called Shirley
with a shaven head and arms as thick as my neck welcomed me into
his cab. He isnÂ’t much of a talker.
I just
called home today for the first time in a few days. No-one was in.
Shirley
is smoking a long green cigar that smells of turpentine. The truck
cab is filled with an acrid smoke and IÂ’m not allowed to wind
a window down.
I think
my eyes are bleeding. I tried to tell Shirley about my mission to
help people, make the world a better place to be in, but his life
philosophy seems to be repeating the phrase - ‘don’t talk
to me pinheadÂ’ which makes connecting on a spiritual level
quite difficult.
Shirley
dropped me off at a motel, which is like a hotel but spelt incorrectly.
Before
he dropped me off I did learn one thing about Shirley; heÂ’s
a woman.
I told
her she had beautiful eyes as I left the truck and for a moment
beneath the bald, muscular exterior I saw a frightened little girl.
Called
home again. No answer. I hope everyone is alright, Mother seldom
goes out during the day for longer than 45 minutes, the time it
takes to walk to the chemists and back allowing time to buy some
Tunes, a tooth-friendly lollipop and renew her prescription.
Once,
in 1996, she was gone for nearly an hour, but that was only because
a tractor hit her.
Called home again. Everyone is fine. Toby was good enough to take
Mother and Aunt Felicity for a meal in Market Drayton as a thankyou
for their kindness and hospitality. Such a nice gesture, I can see
my instincts about Toby were accurate.
I could
never get Mother or Aunt Felicity to venture as far afield as Market
Drayton, so IÂ’m obviously very happy that Toby could achieve
this.
IÂ’m
going to walk down the roadside and see what travel companions fate
brings to me.
For reasons of National Security I can’t write down what happened
today.
For reasons of National Security I can’t write down what happened
today.
For reasons of National Security I can’t write down what happened
today.
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