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All posts for the month June, 2013

MAD MEN, ENGLISHMEN, AND SUN

Published June 3, 2013 by jean cohen

I didn’t blog last week. No excuses or mea culpas. I won’t blame it on the bloody awful weather or another pointless Bank Holiday weekend.

I was taking a spin on the Hedonic Treadmill.

Seriously.

And, no, it’s not the newest exercise equipment at David Lloyd’s. It’s more existentialistic.

The short explanation is that the thrill of new things and new experiences always wears off and we get used to them. So I was in a snit and questioning what the hell I was actually doing in Britain. I know, it’s a bit late to be second guessing that life choice.

Fortunately, we all seem to have a set hedonic level of happiness. Events or experiences may shift our ‘happy’ level up or down, also known as ‘shit happens’, but we inevitably return to our personal set level of happiness.

So I got a grip and went back to being me. Coincidentally, we saw some sunshine here, albeit briefly. I think I am someone who needs the sun to function properly.

Since it was another boring Bank Holiday weekend, I decided to veg out and watch the first three seasons of Mad Men On Demand on Sky.

How did I miss this show?

My co-worker at Sam, Kim, is always raving about it, so I tuned in to an episode, but one can’t make sense of a show mid way through Series 6. You have to start at the beginning.
Wow. Of course, I enjoyed watching a program where everybody smokes like a chimney positively everywhere. I remember the good old days. I do have to wonder if people, even in the advertising biz, drink all day long.

But the charm is in the references to places and events, and even the songs that play at the end of each episode are so apt.

Don’s wife, Betty, is from Philadelphia, and she went to Bryn Mawr. (I was impressed. It’s a big deal; trust me.) And when Betty’s dad came for a visit, he stopped at Pat’s Steaks (a real place) and picked up cheese steaks. I wish he’d come for a visit here.

One of the agency’s clients is Utz Potato Chips. That’s real, too. I love Utz chips; they’re awesome and they’re from Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

I remember stuff like the Cuban Missile crisis (I was a very little girl), the Civil Rights marches, and Kennedy defeating Nixon. Everybody remembers Kennedy’s assassination.

I started jotting down notes while I was watching, and I could go on and on. I just need to score Series 4 and 5. Fast.

Moving right along, as I’d hopped off my Hedonic Treadmill, I celebrated BooBoo’s birthday on Saturday night with her and Cheeseboy at Zio’s, my favourite Italian Restaurant in Walton on Thames.

And I had a fabulous time on Sunday. I was in a parade in London.

Yes, this is true. There was a Closer to Israel march and parade ending in a rally in Trafalgar Square. I went with Ray and we rode on the open top of the United Jewish Israel Appeal’s bus, waving our Israeli flags and waving to the cheering crowds. (That was a tiny bit of artistic license; a few cheered, but not many.) I read on line this morning that in New York, which held a similar event, more than a million people turned out. I think there may have been about a thousand people at the London one.

It was, unusually for Britain, a beautiful day- warm and sunny – and the whole event was fun. The Chief Rabbi, Lord Sacks, and Israel’s Ambassador to the UK, both made moving speeches, and there were two short films shown.

I’ve saved the biggest news for last…

The Neighbors from Hell have disappeared! Somewhere else, in Elmbridge, an unsuspecting Close is in for a real treat.

It was a dark and stormy night. I’m not sure about the stormy part, although it’s very likely here. They certainly sneaked out at night, because I didn’t see or hear a thing. Geez. They didn’t even say ‘goodbye’ or ‘fuck you’ or ‘I’ll be back to slit your throat with a broken beer bottle’.

When I came home from London yesterday, I was gobsmacked to see a young couple, with two small children, clearing up the front garden at #26. It was even more overgrown than mine. I didn’t say anything to them, although I think now I should have welcomed them to the neighbourhood or something. Maybe Mr. Waitrose will make some muffins or whatever and I’ll take them across.

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