November 16, 2005

Boom boom boom

Do you know the Eastenders drums? They only come in at pivotal moments, albeit at the end of every show. Your father who you thought was killed fourteen years ago walks into the room and says, “Hello Princess.” (boom boom boom) You’re just about to announce to the entire pub that you’re in love with your sister-in-law when your estranged wife returns after six months away (boom boom boom). You announce to that same pub that the father of the baby you miscarried was said Princess’s dead father, an icky icky old man. “You whot??” gasps your sister/mother (boom boom boom). Peggy Mitchell is getting strangled in the square when a range rover pulls in, and out jumps Billy, and then the long lost Grant (back from Rio) and Phil (freed from the nick). Boom boom boom indeed. We got another installment yesterday, and when the Mitchell brothers rolled back into Walford, I screamed at the fabulousness of it all.

But I want my own Eastenders drums. I want to carry them around with me, and bang them at all the appropriate times. “Kerry, I heard you’ve been talking about me behind my back”. (Boom boom boom). “Your analytical skills are virtually nil you little dunce you.” (Boom boom boom). Pricechopper cashier gives me my grocery total, and we’ve shopped twenty dollars over budget. (Boom boom boom boom boom). Eastenders drums would be every drama queen’s favourite accessory.

We woke up at six this morning, wide awake with furious winds rattling the house and it was like a typhoon. Of course when the clock went off at seven, we were barely conscious.

I am a bit fascinated with the Dictionary of National Celebrity though I don’t imagine Leslie Stephen would make much of it. It would be interesting to find out how much it really has in common with the original Dictionary of National Biography. The new GG fiction winner wrote 17 drafts of his novel.

Onto further toiling.