Amazingly, I’ve got something approaching a quiet day today. This is what I need to do with it, in this order…
1. Cut the knee-high grass in the garden.
2. Remove the periscope from the dog.
3. Wash some clothes.
4. Watch ‘The Owl Service’.
The Owl Service arrived on DVD last week, and I’ve still got a few episodes left to watch. It’s amazing – I fell in love with Alan Garner’s books when I was 11, and Mr Millward read ‘The Weirdstone Of Brisingamen’ to us at school. He even made his moustache quiver when he read Cadellin Silverbrow’s lines. The Owl Service was adapted for TV in 1969, and it’s incredibly evocative and slightly unsettling. It’s also surprisingly kinky for a ‘kids’s show’ – there are endless shots of bare, mini-skirted legs being provocatively crossed, and smouldering eye-shadowed glances from beneath tumbling locks of hair.
And that’s just from Edwin Richfield.
Ho ho!
Wiffle Lever To Full! 
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