A Little Sunday Night Nonsense

For the last 6 weeks we have had a little Sunday night ritual, which for me, has led to a bit of a repeat during the week. Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse have just finished their third series of half hour programmes about fishing. For most of the time, nothing much happens. These two old friends prattle away at each other, teasing, joking and every now and then they catch a fish and Bob gets into a complete frenzy. Invariably during the programme Paul tells him off - “don’t wind” has become a bit of a catchphrase. I love this programme and have started watching the previous series on BBC iPlayer.

For thirty minutes I lose myself in this little vignette of life. I asked myself why I am finding it so addictive. Both men have serious health conditions and Bob Mortimer has talked about depression very openly. Bob had a triple heart bypass and Paul has had three stents fitted, yet they are able to joke about it all and take it seriously all at the same time. They eat heart-healthy food and, in the main, avoid the naughty stuff like cheese. What is it about this little programme that I feel so in tune with?

It’s very simple. I feel like I belong. The banter between them is very like that in the military, and they face their illnesses with a frankness that is refreshing. Most men shy away from discussing any form of weakness openly. Bob has clearly been shaken by his need for a bypass, yet Paul doesn’t walk on eggshells around him.. Instead, he recognised a friend that was struggling and intervened. He chides and takes the piss mercilessly but you can tell that he also cares deeply for his friend. I consider myself privileged to be invited into their private world for 30 minutes once a week to witness the openness and honesty that too few men can show in public.

I consider myself lucky that I too have a couple of friends that have been there for me since Evie died in a very similar way. Men that understand and care. Friends that I know will be there whenever I need them should the black dog appear again and gain an upper hand. I don’t have the serious health conditions that either Bob or Paul are having to contend with, but there are days when I feel as lost or helpless.

So for those 30 minutes on a Sunday evening or at other times when the urge strikes, I can watch a bit of TV and reflect on how my own life mirrors theirs in some way and count myself lucky.